


Broken Crown

by MsAtomicBomb



Series: Fate/Stained Knight [2]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Camelot, Drama, Fighting, Gen, Middle Ages, kingdom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2018-09-17 17:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9334907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsAtomicBomb/pseuds/MsAtomicBomb
Summary: Five years seemed more like a life time to Arturia Pendragon. Now the King of Camelot, she seeks to rule like a Just King, but it seems that her crown weighs more than she could ever have imagined. With the arrival of yet another suitor, she hopes to make an alliance in order to hold back the Saxons and re-institute her power where it had diminished but the Once King of Camelot maybe soon be the Future King. Sequel to Fate/Stained Knight.





	1. Somewhere to Begin

_Dear Diarmuid,_

_I greet you again, how do you fare? Is Uruk treating you well? Have you found a lovely young girl that is keeping you occupied? I mean, I guess that must be so since you never write anymore. I hope she also treats you well, my knight._

_Mordred is growing quite well. Morgana is a nice mother to have, and Mordred still prefers to play with me. As my ward, I teach him quite a lot of things and we started prepping him to be a warrior. I am aware he is only five, but it is still nice to have a little boy swinging a wooden sword about. I'll tell you a secret, I usually let him win so as to make him happy._

_The Saxons have been trying to make advances throughout this past year, as mentioned, and they do not seem to be growing tired, but my people are. Some are even questioning my rule, as I have come to realize. There fore, Morgana has been itching for me to meet a suitor, and well… that hasn't gone so well. She says an alliance will be beneficial, but I disagree. As the King, I have quite a lot of power and I tell her many times over that I am strong enough—that Camelot is strong enough—to fight them off, but she disagrees._

_I have to meet with another suitor today… The Kingdom wants an heir and that requires for me to get a man. Morgana has introduced me to a fair share of fine men already—as I have written to you— but they are either too old or cocky for my taste. Although, there was a nice young man from the Japanese Empire (Took him nearly a year to arrive in Camelot). He had no status, though, and thus I could not marry him. He was quite honorable as yourself. Violet hair—a little richer than Lancelot's; that almost looked blue—tied back and falling to his waist. His eyes were a shiny blue, they almost looked like those sapphires on my crown. Good man that he was… But nothing compared to you._

_Most probable is that I will still be suitor-less by the end of the day. Morgana will want to stop making me meet suitors, Merlin will complain that the people are waiting for an heir and I will stay in my chambers having to flirt with documents instead._

_But I still think of you and wait for you._

_Waiting, hoping you come back, maybe someday soon._

_With love,_

_King Arturia Pendragon_

The blonde female looked down at the letter after she signed her name and then sat back on her chair. He had practically stopped writing to her after the third year, but she always kept writing, hoping that one day he too would send a letter. She usually talked about sparing and the silly pranks that Gawain pulled on her or the little things that Bedivere did to make her life easier. She would even send him letters of Lancelot and Guinevere; things she missed about them, the stuff she loved the most.

There was a light knock on her door and Arturia allowed the disturbance. A beautiful female entered the room, hair flowing like a golden waterfall to her waist with braids and jewels adorning it. She wore a white dress with flower prints and took a step closer to the other female, "Writing another letter?" She spoke.

Arturia turned towards her friend and nodded, "I'm still hopeful."

"It has been two entire years, Arturia. You have to let him go." Iseult knelt in front of the king, "If he has not written back, he does not deserve your love."

The king smiled sorrowfully and shrugged, "I wished him all the best, he should be here by now anyway; and if he is not it is because he has a better life there."

Iseult took her friend's hand, "Alright, well then, let us go to meet your suitor."

"Who am I supposed to meet today?" Arturia asked as she was being dragged out of her room by her trusty friend.

The beautiful Irishwoman groaned, "Oh! Can you believe it? Morgana will not tell me. She keeps saying that it is a secret."

"Are they here as of yet?"

"No, they'll be a little late, as Morgana says, but I hope they will arrive today."

* * *

_**:~~~~~~~~~~:** _

* * *

"Tell me again of my older brother?" The young boy sat at the edge of the carriage's seat attentively looking at his personal guard.

The man smiled and shrugged, "He used to call me dog, said I seemed like one. Even when he saved my life; but, it was more of a compliment then," he laughed.

"Dog, huh? Can I call you that too, Diarmuid?" The blond boy grinned.

Diarmuid laughed and then gave a shrug, "Only if you promise to say it in a nice way and not make it offensive."

The boy nodded excitedly and then looked out the window, "When are we getting there, this is boring! My guard dog. The prince's guard dog."

"Let's play a game then, yes?"

The prince nodded his head at the man before him and clapped his hands together. "What kind of game?"

"I think of something and then you have twenty questions to guess what it may be." Diarmuid explained, "If you guess it by the twentieth or before, you win. If you don't guess by the twenty questions, I win. Simple, yes?"

"Very!" The boy clapped his hands. He was a little childish and innocent for the age of a twelve-year-old boy, as was expected of any royal child that basically grew up alone. Diarmuid had helped him get over many things, the loss of his brother, his anti-social nature and his anxiety. The young prince looked up to the Irishman quite a bit now and he loved how the other talked about his brother.

"They can only be yes or no questions; the category I choose is Animals." Diarmuid smiled and looked out the window, satisfied to see familiar rolling hills and plain lands.

The boy's questions began to pour out as he tried to figure out the animal that the older male had picked. The carriage ride was filled with questions and answers until the boy guessed the animal and they switched turns. It was only until sun down that the carriage slowed to a complete stop and the dark-haired male looked out the window.

A smile grew on his lips as he saw the familiar castle walls. "We have finally arrived." He spoke as he turned to the blond male. He felt his heart swell and he could feel himself become nervous.

The prince stood from the seat and stretched, "Thank goodness! My butt was starting to numb," he laughed and the older of the two joined him. He looked out the carriage's window and took note of the huge brick castle before him. Since it was starting to get dark, a lot of torches had been lit to bring life to the palace.

Diarmuid helped the boy down from the carriage, as he was to do, and then fixed the twelve year-old's attire so he seemed presentable and not as if he had been sitting in a carriage for almost two months since they had gotten to Provence. It had taken them nearly four months to arrive, but the long ride was worth it, though the desert was not Diarmuid's favourite part of the trip.

The young boy waited patiently until Diarmuid was finished fixing him up and he stood still for the king of the foreign kingdom to greet them. He had heard a lot about this king from Diarmuid, and he had also said that Gilgamesh looked up to him in some way of sorts, but little Ko-Giru would always love to meet people that his brother befriended.

Ko looked up at Diarmuid and saw the nervous demeanour that he held, but also the glint in his eyes that he was so expectant, as if someone he loved so dearly would walk out of the big birch doors and descend the stairs to greet them. The little boy let his gaze drift back up to the castle doors again and he took note of the architecture—it was very different from Uruk. He had noticed that the other country they had passed by had similar structures, but there was more people around there. Diarmuid said that it was because Francia was warmer than Logres, and so the boy did take note of the changing attire as they neared the Island Kingdom.

The big doors were opened and a female with dark hair started to descend the stone stairs, her purple dress following in her tracks and leaving a short trail of fabric behind her. The little crowned prince looked up at Diarmuid, expecting to see him star struck, but instead he just held a courteous smile on his lips. _Why isn't he happy to see her?_ The boy asked himself whilst he directed his attention back to the beautiful woman. Her dress was different than what other Urukian women wore, it was much more heavy and the colours were dark, her skin was also very pale.

Once the female had reached them, she gave a deep bow, "Welcome, my dear Prince of Uruk. I am very pleased and honoured that you have come all this way," she had a smile on red lips and her eyes were so beautiful; a pastel green.

"Thank you for inviting us. I am so very happy to see you, Lady Morgana," he stopped short and thought about it, hoping she was the one that sent the letter, "My father has sent with me many things for my brother." He spoke, "And so I hope that we are able to make his grave a little more Babylonian."

Morgana smiled, "Of course, my prince." She gave a nod, "There is a banquet awaiting you, my prince, and your guard," her eyes glanced at Diarmuid, "We have also prepared some food for your servants as this must have been the longest trip that both your highness and your people have taken. We have also prepared your chambers and our servants will take your belongings there right this instant." As she finished her sentence, maids and butlers stepped towards the carriage, "If you would follow me, my prince, I can direct you to a bath where you can freshen up. We also prepared some clothing for you as we know that Uruk holds a different climate than Camelot."

"Oh yes," the prince smiled, "Diarmuid has said so. Well, thank you for the hospitality." He then followed after the woman with Diarmuid on his right to keep an eye on him.

"It is very different here, isn't it, Diarmuid?" The little boy perked up to see the tall man as he cleaned him up.

Diarmuid chuckled a little, "It is, but do you like it, my prince?"

Ko-Giru nodded, "Yes, it is very interesting here, but the weather is not as I had wished it to be. I still prefer the warmth of Uruk. What happened to the woman you love? Wasn't it this one? You did not seem so excited when she met us…"

The Irishman sighed, "Is that why you were looking at me so attentively, my prince?"

The boy nodded, slipping out of the tub, "It wasn't this one, was it? But this woman was very beautiful; I really love her eyes. She reminded me of a porcelain doll; her skin is very pale." He began to dry himself with a white cloth that had been provided, while Diarmuid prepared his clothing so that he would help him into them.

"Lady Morgana is the sister of the one I always go on about, she is not as tall as the Lady Morgana and her hair is actually the colour that of gold." Diarmuid had a smile on his lips, one that the young prince recognized as the one that his guard always had when he talked about the mystery woman.

Upon being completely dry, Diarmuid helped the young prince into the stiff and heavy clothes that Camelot had to offer, "What are these?" The blond male asked.

"Trousers, my prince. Everyone in the Northern countries wear them."

"You were wearing something similar to this when you arrived in Uruk, correct? Although not as heavy," the boy commented while the other male helped him into the white coat with intricate gold designs.

"Yes, I will be changing into my combat attire in a short while as you wait with one of Camelot's Guards." After the young prince had been properly dressed and prepared fro the banquet dinner, Diarmuid met with on of Camelot's Knights of the Round and let Ko-Giru stay with him while he changed. It wasn't long before Diarmuid returned in his green outfit—the one that Ko-Giru had seen on him the first time they met.

The knight—one Diarmuid was not familiar with—led them to the banquet hall and opened the door for them. Upon stepping inside, Diarmuid saw the many torches that lit the dinning room and the many decorations it held, he heard the herald announce his current master and watched as everyone at the table rose from their seat. His amber eyes skimmed the table a few times but he did not see the King.

The people at the table turned to their right and gave a bow, Diarmuid and Ko followed in the action as they saw a short blond female with a royal blue dress enter the room. Diarmuid's eyes lit up and the corners of his lips tilted upwards as he felt his heart skip a beat.

"Prince Ko-Giru of Uruk, it is an honour to meet you. I am Arturia Pendragon, the King of Camelot." She bowed a little in respect and the little boy smiled.

"You are the king," he repeated it to himself so that he let it sink in without seeming confused, "You are a very beautiful King."

Arturia smiled, "Thank you, my dear prince; you are very handsome yourself. Would you like to sit and eat?" She signalled at the table and then led him towards his seat. She seated the young boy and turned about only to face Diarmuid. Her green eyes flickered to the seat next to the boy and she walked across the room to her own afterwards.

"I would like to make a toast," she lifted her grail and everyone did as well, "For the Prince of Uruk." She had a sweet smile on her lips and the little boy took a liking to the female king right away. The table repeated her words and the young prince gave a short smile before everyone took a sip of their wine.

Arturia lifted a pale hand and a small band began to play and fill the dining hall with music as the maids set the food on the table. People began to speak with one other and Arturia was the first to begin eating. Her eyes had landed on the prince across from her and the man to his right. It had been years since she had seen him, and she was tempted to wrap her harms around him, but she kept her head held high as if she was not thinking about it.

The fiddle filled the space around them and Ko-Giru was impressed with the music, as it too was different than the one back home, it was lovely and he enjoyed it greatly. His eyes drifted to his guard and he saw the look in his eye—one he had never seen before, one that was filled with love. The boy followed the older male's gaze towards the king and he gave a smile upon noticing that she was the mystery woman Diarmuid always spoke of.

Ko took a bite out of his food and took another for the taste was good and he had fallen in love with quite a bit of things that Camelot had to offer. His goblet had been refilled after he had finished the wine and he took another sip of the alcohol; it too was very tasty. The boy sat up straight after feeling a short discomfort in his stomach, his red eyes fell upon his guard as he felt something warm trickle down from his nose and his vision blurred, "Dia—"

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Author's Note~
> 
> Hello and welcome to Fate/Stained Knight's Sequel you've all been waiting for (or not)!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it and (of course) there will be more Romance in this one haha...
> 
> *Ko-Giru literally means "Child-Gil" in Japanese. I am not creative with Babylonian names so that will do for Gilgamesh's baby brother (I personally like it haha).
> 
> Sincerely, Once again,
> 
> ~Ms. AtomicBomb


	2. Before all the Damage is Done

Diarmuid saw the blood trickling from Ko-Giru's nose and witnessed just as the boy's eyes began to close. The Irishman abruptly stood from his seat and launched himself towards the little prince to catch him in time before he hit the floor. The room was filled with gasps from guests and knights once Diarmuid caught the little boy and the King stood from her seat in an instant. Diarmuid heard the clacking of the female's heels as he lifted the limp body of the boy in his arms, a frantic expression on his face.

Arturia reached Diarmuid and let her gaze drop to the young prince in his arms, "Call onto the court physician! Immediately." She called out, worry written all over her face, "Hurry!" She added after she had seen no one made an effort, "The wine!" She finally realized that the little boy had taken a sip of the drink before he fell unconscious, "Bedivere, every maid must be taken to the throne room this instant." She looked towards her knight and took the goblet of wine that Ko-Giru had taken from the table.

The knights around the dinning room did as the King had asked and everyone was quick to get to the places they need to be, a couple of people going towards Merlin's office as Morgana and Arturia ushered Diarmuid to the young prince's chambers.

Diarmuid set the boy on the red covered bed, freight filling his every bone. He was supposed to protect the boy; he couldn't fail the second time around. Uruk had already lost a prince under Diarmuid's wings, and there would be chaos if he lost their only heir, "Where is the court physician?" He was getting desperate; he didn't want to loose the sweet prince, he cared too much for him.

"Diarmuid, he will be here soon," Morgana answered as Arturia could not speak, her heart in her throat, "the prince will be fine."

Diarmuid furrowed his brows, "The prince has been poisoned. I would have expected to be welcomed to Camelot with hospitality and precautions to prevent my dear prince to be killed on his first day here."

"Diarmuid," Morgana breathed, "Merlin will save him. We will be reprimanding the actions of the traitor with severe punishment. Death, to be exact." She spoke, quite upset with the male before her.

The prince's guard turned back towards the prince and knelt by his bed, he took the hand of the boy and pushed his hair from his face; noticing that the little boy was burning to the touch. His eyes were already sunken in and he was pale in every sense of the word. It wasn't long before the doors opened and Merlin entered the room frantically, rushing to the little boy. Arturia gave him the goblet and Merlin simply too a smell of it, "Bella Donna." He grimaced as he recognized the sweet smell of the deadly berry, "I have an antidote for this one."

Diarmuid shot his head towards the court magus and physician, a glimmer of hope in his orange eyes, "You do?"

"Arturia had been poisoned with this before, I've had to treat her many times for this poison; it's a strong one if not treated immediately," the man spoke while he searched a satchel he had brought with him. Taking out small glass bottles, he finally reached the one he was looking for, "This has to be forced into his system, I recommend to give it to him as a drink."

Morgana left the room immediately and soon returned with a goblet of water, "Here," she spoke as she passed the wooden cup to Merlin. The magus sprinkled a bit of the antidote into the cup and swirled it around.

"Will that be enough?" Diarmuid felt his heart beat slow down a little since he noted that the prince was safe in the arms of the man before him.

Merlin nodded, "Yes, he only drank a bit of the wine, so the boy will be fine. Although he is young, he is a strong one, so do not fret, Diarmuid." He then ordered Diarmuid to raise the boy as he fed him the antidote, "He will not awaken for another day, it is a strong poison and an even stronger antidote. Expect hi to be drowsy when he awakens as it is normal."

Diarmuid nodded immediately, "But he will be perfectly fine when he awakens, yes?" He asked, looking back at the child that lay on the bed sleeping, pale and sweating now. Although he had trust in Merlin, he could not help being afraid for the life of the boy; he just couldn't loose him.

"He will be perfectly fine," Merlin assured before packing every one of the other vials. He set the antidote that pertained to the Bella Donna poison on the counter, "If his condition worsens and I am unable to tend to him, sprinkle just a little of the antidote in water and feed it to him again; but it does not seem necessary as of now. I will go check the rest of the drinks." He then turned to leave, "Morgana and I will also investigate." With that the two wizards left the room and Diarmuid went back to holding the boy's hand.

Diarmuid felt a small hand on his shoulder and he looked up to see the king by his side, "I am very sorry for this, we will find out who is responsible." These were not the first words that she wanted to tell him after five years, but there was nothing much she could say in this situation, "I'll bring a seat for you as I am sure you wish to stay by his side until he awakens."

The Irishman shook his head, "I will get it, King Arturia, you should go." His words were a little harsh and so Arturia gave a nod and she began to walk out of the room but stopped at the door.

"Although the day wasn't one you enjoyed; welcome back. I'm very glad to see you again." She turned her head and held a soft smile on her lips, "I will make sure to find who is responsible." The female added before leaving the room. She walked down the hallway, her heart feeling heavy at the fact that he had been so cold to her. The blonde female shook her head and arrived at the throne room, maids already gathered.

As she walked passed them, they bowed and then she stood next to the throne, "How many did you round?" She looked about and landed her eyes on her trusted guard.

"We found twenty-seven, my king," He nodded his head and glanced at the maids that had been ushered into the throne room.

"Twenty-seven? Where are the last three? We have thirty, Bedivere. Have you all searched the catacombs? The castle passageways?" She furrowed her brows, concern lacing her every word.

"The catacombs have yet to be—"

"Then get to it, Bedivere." There was disappointment in her eyes, "A foreign prince is in bed and you cannot search the castle grounds properly? There will be consequences if you return to me without the last three." She sat down on the wooden throne and crossed her legs under the heavy blue dress, "I will begin the interrogation."

Diarmuid sat next to the prince and watched over him. He felt extremely uneasy and scared for the little boy. He had basically been the older brother of the boy for the last five years. He had been there ever since he arrived in Uruk.

_It was scorching hot, the big walls of the main city of Uruk held everyone safely inside, protecting them from all foe except the burning sun. Diarmuid's horse had to be left in Provence because there was no way it would survive in the harsh middle-eastern desserts. He was given a camel upon the arrival in Jerusalem. His clothes had become lighter in weight and in colour, but when he arrived at the fifty-foot walls of Uruk, he opted to change back into his green combat uniform._

_He was escorted to the palace in the middle of the citadel and ushered through granite hallways and tall ceilings. Things were much more different than back in Camelot—everything seemed much more fancy with the colours and the materials used to both decorate and build the castle. The throne room had only one chair and there were cushions all over the floor. There was a tall man seated on the throne while many ladies sat on the floor dressed in silks that did not cover their entire body. There were some dressed very modestly with different patterns on every layer and others that had their belly exposed—something Diarmuid had never seen._

_He did not make any eye contact with the women as he did not want to be trampled and so he just walked towards what he believed was the king and bowed before him, "I come bearing a letter of your son, My King Dumuzid." Diarmuid spoke, extending his arms out._

_The king sat up straight and looked at the male, "Your name." He demanded._

" _Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, First Knight of Fianna and Son of Donn." The Knight answered as requested._

_King Dumuzid took the letter and looked at it, "And my son? How is he doing in Hibernia?"_

_There was no answer from Diarmuid as the king opened the letter and began to read it loud enough for Diarmuid to hear but not for anyone else._

Dear Father, King of Uruk,

I write this to you with heavy remorse. As you read this letter, let it be known that I am no longer; I have perished in battle. I ask you sincere forgiveness as you read this with regret, most likely. I have never really been a good son and my little brother seems to be better fit for the role of king rather than I am. Although, I have still have brought glory to Uruk with the remnants of my life. I bring with this letter a trusted knight and friend of mine.

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the First Knight of Fianna seems like nothing more than a simple knight, but the loyalty this man holds is beyond any other, father. I have no doubt he will be perfectly suited for the role of Crown Guardian. This man will rather kill himself than betray his master; he will protect Crowned Prince Ko-Giru until his dying breath. Please accept him in your court, father, King of Uruk.

I miss you already and all of Uruk. I have consulted a Magus and he has told me the wonders that await Uruk when my brother rules the Kingdom. He will be revered by the people and loved by even his enemies. Father, I thank you for everything.

With thankfulness,

Crowned Prince Gilgamesh of Uruk

_Dumuzid lifted his head from the paper and stood, "Is it true that my son is dead?" He looked at the knight._

_Diarmuid slowly nodded, "Perished bravely and gracefully during battle. Another letter has been sent with me from the King of Camelot, King of the country your son so bravely fought for."_

_There was a stern look on the man's face and he was clearly ready to kick the male out. But he accepted the letter of Camelot and read it over, this time not aloud. The king looked at Diarmuid afterwards, "If my son really believed you will help my country, I must fulfill his last wish. I pray that you will be no disappointment. Take care of my son."_

Diarmuid felt a small hand on his head and he slowly awoke from the memory that he had nearly forgotten. He slowly lifted his head and saw the little boy with eyes half lidded, "Diarmuid," he voice was weak and it pained the man.

"My prince, how are you feeling?"

"I am feeling better, thank you," he mumbled softly and Diarmuid took the little hand in his own, "thank you, my knight."


	3. Somewhere Only We Know

The child-prince was still bed ridden the following day, but he was much better than he had been. Merlin instructed him to stay in bed for the week and only do minimal exercise in the provided chambers. The blond boy was already bored by the afternoon on the first day and would have liked to go out on a hunt—as was scheduled—but Merlin would have none of it and it seemed that the tall and handsome male agreed.

"But Dia," the little boy whined, "I want to go out. We've been stuck in a carriage for months and I want to actually see this foreign land, not just sit on my bed and let my vacation waste away."

Diarmuid sighed, his eyes skimming over the boy on the bed, "You must rest. And we will head home as soon as possible as your father, the King, would like you home. Your life is in danger and Camelot is not a safe place for you, my prince."

"It is so boring to be a prince! I want to be a warrior, like you. Princely duties are just so uneventful and I dislike them." This was one of the first times that he argued with the Irishman but when he did he was always very stubborn and wouldn't change his decision.

"The king wants you home and that is final, my prince." The Irish knight too was stubborn.

"My father is not here with us; he needn't know that I am bedridden. Let us enjoy our time here and go on the hunt." Ko-Giru slipped out of the bed and crossed his arms over his chest, "Oh, please, Dia? Let me enjoy Logres."

"My prince, I will not disobey your father's orders. You must hurry home as soon as you are fully recovered."

The Foreign prince grunted, "If you so insist." He fell back on the bed with a cough and gave a loud sigh to emphasize how bored he truly was.

It seemed that Diarmuid paid no heed to his young Prince's whines because he did not even make an effort to make the boy excited for something else that could be waiting for him in Uruk. The little boy was not going to give up just yet, he hoped that Diarmuid would take his eyes off of him for a while and he could slip through the door and explore the palace—at the very least.

The time had come when Diarmuid had to go to the bathroom and he gave a careful glance at the little boy, "Stay put, my prince, I will return in less than five minutes."

Ko-Giru nodded, "I will see you then." He had a bright smile on his lips that etched almost to each ear—he had escaped from Diarmuid twice before and nothing bad had happened to him and so he knew he would be safe. Plus, he was safe at the castle.

Ko-Giru immediately jumped out of the bed when the door closed shut. He hurried to the wardrobe and pulled out a presentable coat he could fit in and wouldn't be judged. He quickly scribbled a little letter for his knight and set it upon the table, so that the man would not be alarmed. After glancing at the mirror, he scurried out of the room and carefully checked the hallway. His heart was beating rapidly as he made his way away from his chambers and on to a little excursion.

He was halfway down the second corridor when he heard the laughing of a little child; It was quite late now and since the sun set a little earlier, the sound of a child laughing was quite scary for the young blond. His red eyes widened a little and he ran down the rest of the hallway—only to bump into the child that had been laughing.

"Oof!" A little violet haired boy fell back onto his rear. His face began to twist into a frown and he was ready to cry out before Ko-Giru covered his mouth and shook his head.

"No, no, no," he mumbled, "Shhhh, you are just fine, little boy." Goosebumps formed all over his skin because it was a high possibility that Diarmuid would find him on his escapade, "I am very sorry but I am running away from my guard."

The little boy with the violet hair to his shoulders slowly nodded and his sad face slowly faded, "Mhmnmnmn,"

"Pardon me?" The prince furrowed his brows and leaned his ear closer the younger boy who remained on the floor.

The brown-eyed five-year-old pushed off the older boy's hand from his mouth, "I was saying, who are you… I haven't seen you around."

"Oh sorry… Well, my name is Ko-Giru, I'm a prince from far away." The blond responded as he helped the other stand, "And you are?"

"P-p-prince? Oh my! Never ever, ever, ever have I met a prince!" Some words were slurred and it was hard to understand the little boy but Ko-Giru guessed that was what the boy had said, "Oh! My name is Mordred, nice to meet you Prince Ko-Gilu. I am King Altulia's ward, and Molgana's son."

"Ward? Oh, then you have met a prince, Arturia was once a prince." Ko-Giru chuckled.

Mordred shrugged and rolled his shoulders afterwards, "Where are you going? You were in a hurry."

"Have you seen a tall handsome man anywhere? Perchance?"

"Tall… many are tall for me."

"Dark hair and a beauty mark under the right eye?"

The violet haired-head bobbed in a nod, "Oh! The pretty man that was talking to auntie!" He recalled, "I can take you to him!"

"No, no, I am hoping to explore the castle because he doesn't let me leave the room, thus I escaped. Would you like to join me?"

The younger boy but his lower lip and slowly nodded his head, "Yes, that sounds exciting!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Arturia walked in silence, a green dress following her trail whilst Diarmuid strode next to her. She had seen him in the hallway and quickly sent Bedivere to the prince's chambers to that she would be able to clear things up with Diarmuid; she instructed her knight to not return until she called for him.

"I believe it is time for me to return to my master, my liege." Diarmuid gulped and tried to end the silence.

"As I have said, I sent my most trusted knight to watch over Gilgamesh's brother and I promise you that he is in safe hands. Plus, I wanted to take you to one of our cellars. You might have forgotten but five years ago I promised you that I would have you taste the best wine Camelot had to offer and that it would be no match to Uruk's… Therefore, I want to fulfill that promise."

The torches were the only thing lighting the hallway, casting shadows upon the stone walls around them. There was silence once more as the evening got older and they continued down the hallway towards the cellar that Arturia was very hopeful about. They made a few turns and obviously went through thinner corridors because the cellars, well were where they usually are; underground. They stopped next to a carpet and Arturia gave a smile before lifting it.

Diarmuid watched as a trap door was revealed, "This is where your finest wine is?" He furrowed his brows and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Away from the nobles who like to get drunk," she sighed, "Come on." She waved her hand and lifted the trap door before turning towards Diarmuid and taking a step down on the ladder.

"Do you need help?" He asked, "I can help you down… that dress does not seem to be for the occasion."

The female let out a chuckle, "I was able to take down an opponent while wearing a heavy dress once, I believe I can get down from this ladder safely."

Diarmuid joined her in the cellar about a minute later. He had noted that she picked up a lantern somewhere along the road because the dark room was softly lit with a golden glow, leaving many corners of the room swallowed in shadows for the little light was not strong enough. He watched the short blonde light some of the barrels and continue her way down towards the other end of the cellar.

Her footsteps were much lighter since the first time that they had met and she walked very elegantly, as a queen would be expected to. It was as if she was floating, there was no bounce in her stride and for the tiniest moment he recalled a certain brunette, "Did Morgana teach you?" He shook his head as he tried to get rid of the image of his downfall.

"To drink?" Her head flipped towards him, lamp lighting all it could, "No, the knights did," Arturia let out a giggle, sounding much sweeter than wine—this image, on the other hand, made his heart flutter.

"No, I meant your…" He did not want to sound rude by telling her she walked more elegantly than before, "Well, you walk more like a princess now."

The female laughed, "Are you saying that I walked like a man before?"

"Well, that's not what I mean…"

"As expected of any female monarch, I must represent the values of a woman and walking elegantly is one. Morgana had stressed this quite a bit and so, as you may have noticed, I am much more femininely than before." Arturia then stopped at a barrel of wine, "Here we are!" Her hands clapped together, "This wine is a little over fifty years old. My father and mother served it at their wedding and I will be doing the same—if I get married, that is."

"I'm sure you will." He bit the inside of his cheek as his words were encouraging, "But, wouldn't you want to share this with your husband rather than me?"

"It is a goblet of wine, plus, everyone is going to share this wine at my wedding anyways." She shrugged, her eyes sparkling along with the flame in the lantern, "Can you reach up to get an empty bottle?"

"A bottle?" He questioned, "With all due respect, your majesty, isn't it a bit too early for a bottle of wine?"

"Then I will get it." She sighed and set the lantern on the floor, a foot away from the barrels as she knew the dangers of fire. Her right foot was lifted and carefully placed upon the barrel she was hoping to get the empty wine bottles up from a shelf above another barrel. She struggled a little but felt hands on her waist to steady her.

"I could have gotten it for you," the male mumbled.

Arturia answered with a roll of her eyes, "In a hundred years? I'm already here anyway." She felt the empty bottle and grasped it tightly, grabbing a cork from a little tin bin on the side, "Help me down, please." Now that she had no hands, and he was keeping her steady, it was looking very difficult to get down. She couldn't just jump off because she was at an angle and it would not look pretty.

"Turn around," he instructed and she did so, her green gaze landing on his orange one, "Now leap off, I'll catch you."

"And if you do not?" She gave a warning look.

"You will fall on me and I die, not you." Diarmuid chuckled, giving her waist a gentle squeeze, "I promise that I will catch you."

Arturia, with hesitation, jumped down and as she was promised, arms wrapped around her tightly and slowly lowered her to steady her upon the cold ground. Their eyes were locked on each other all throughout the ordeal and they even stayed silent a little afterwards, just looking at each other.

Diarmuid cleared his throat and their eyes drifted from one another, "Are we drinking in here?" He asked, a hint of sass in his voice.

"Oh, no, we are going to the courtyard." She answered promptly and began her way to the stair steps again.

It was a long way to the courtyard, but it was well needed in order to make things a little more comfortable for the both of them. The courtyard was not lit, save for a few lanterns and it had the serenity of every small forest. The cool air was quite inviting even as it burned their cheeks initially. It was quite dark out, and the stars were shinning through some scattered clouds, but they kept silent; simply enjoying what surrounded them.

Arturia sighed as she plopped down on a patch of grass a little into the small meadow, her green dress fanning around her and matching the healthy grass below it, "Shall we share a drink?" She blinked up at the man who simply stared down at her, patting the soft grass next to herself with one hand while lifting the bottle of wine with the other.

Diarmuid sat next to her and offered her a goblet, softly lifting the right corner of his lips.

She poured herself a glass and then she poured him one too, slowly watching the red liquid pour forth onto the goblet, "I, personally, love wine and I am completely certain that you will fancy this particular one."

He didn't respond as their goblets gently touched in a short cheer and then he brought his very own goblet to his lips. It was sweet, sliding smoothly over his tongue to make him smile and down his throat with just the slightest of stings. She had been right; this was the best wine he had ever tasted. It felt as if he could taste the process of this delicious wine, feeling the gatherers pick only the plumpest of grapes off the vine and how they were crushed on a warm afternoon.

There must have been a flicker in his eyes, or a look of pure satisfaction on his face because Arturia let out a chuckle, "Is it not simply perfect, Diarmuid?"

Their eyes locked for a second and she had a small smile on her lips; he was just so mesmerized by her and it caused his heart to skip a few beats as he felt his cheeks warm up. He felt like a sailor being hypnotized by a Siren; the sparkle in her eyes, the sweet smile on her pale lips, the golden strands of hair blowing in the wind, her skin seeming softer than satin—she was so mesmerizing.

He hadn't known when he reached out and cupped her cheek, slowly bringing her face towards him. It was a surprise that she had not slapped his hand away, instead, she leaned into the touch and willingly followed his lead.

It wasn't long before her eyes fluttered closed and she reached out towards him, landing her free hand on his shoulder and sliding her hand to his hair just as their lips touched.

He felt a shock rock through his body, but he mustered all his courage as he set down his goblet and took hers from her hand. He landed his hand on her waist and brought her closer. Her lips fit _perfectly_ against his, so very perfectly… and he forgot how good the wine was because her lips were much sweeter than that.

It had been a sweet and simple kiss, and she pulled away blinking at him as his eyes fluttered open, "Why did you stop writing?" Her voice was soft, hoping he wouldn't avoid the question, "Did you find someone better?"

She was still in his arms, steady and beautiful, "No, you are the only one I have eyes for." He replied, keeping his eyes on hers, despite the flush on his cheeks. The question made him feel guilty, making him hesitate loosening the grip on her waist.

"Then… why did you?"


	4. Court Visitor

There wasn't much he could say about the matter… but he took a short breath before he could regret telling her the truth, "I did not want to." He slipped his hand from her waist and frowned.

The female's eyes doubled their size as she felt someone had punched her in the gut, "Pardon me?" She tilted her head, "You simply did not want to write to me and that was all there was to it? I'm quite amazed," She stood from the garden floor harshly, "And you had the audacity of kissing me just now?" She would not be as angry with him if he had just not played with her feeling less than a few minutes ago.

Diarmuid opened his mouth to protest but she did not want any of it as she had begun to turn about, " _If_ _only_ you had found someone else." She groaned right as he stood from the floor and followed suit after her. She had reached the pathway before he could take a hold of her wrist. It wasn't until she was halfway towards the castle had he was able to grab her forearm and pull her towards him.

"Arturia, do not run off like that, please." He spun her around so that she would face him, "That is not what I meant; I meant that I never wanted to stop writing to you. The King was very strict with letters and it wasn't until the fact that I noticed he was reading our letters that I stopped. I responded to your letters, I just never sent them."

The crickets were quite lively that night, filling the garden with their singing. She simple kept her eyes on him, "I do not believe you," She was testing him, did he truly love still… after all this time?

Diarmuid blushed, "That is quite understandable, but I thought it was my chance to deliver them to you in person, thus I have brought them with me. I would be willing to take them to your room right now, if you so wish." He gulped, "I only wish for you to read them while I am not with you…" He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment; setting her cheeks ablaze as well.

"And why is that?" She almost feared what he had written, her heart quickening its pace in her chest at an alarming speed.

"I simply wrote things I would never have said… There was nothing wrong with them, other than how embarrassing they truly are." He turned away from her, his face already the vibrant red of the rose on her coat of arms.

Arturia was still a bit angry with him but he presented her with a look that was hard to ignore. She frowned a little and opened her mouth to speak before the castle bell frightened them and all the animals around them as well. Arturia had cringed at the sound of the high pitched and horribly loud signal while Diarmuid (after recovering from his initial shock) had become worried.

"Another problem? Does this happen in Camelot often?" He gave her a short and unamused glance, "We have to hurry. What if," he gasped loudly—Arturia could have sworn he almost ate a fly, "What if my prince is in trouble!"

Arturia had seemed annoyed if anything and she was definitely not phased by the ringing of the bell, "Worry not." She waved her hand and then took his so that she could drag him along, "It is simply Merlin interrupting my free time for a presence in the throne room. He always rings that when he wants to see me or fool around so that I show up. I've learnt to not be afraid of it. Two rings mean they want me at the Throne room, three that the castle needs to be evacuated and four means lock everyone up." After having given him a short lesson on court essentials, she pulled him towards the throne room in a short stride.

"Should we not hurry a bit more then?" He had calmed down a bit, "What if it is not just Merlin fooling around?"

Arturia shrugged, "It is still unmannered of me to enter the Throne room out of breath. Plus, if it was truly urgent, they would have sent a soldier to find me, I'm sure Merlin knows where I always am."

It was not long before the reached the side door of the throne room, which was they had seen Merlin impatiently tapping his foot, "Where have you been? We sent a soldier after you ages ago, and you did not even hurry up after we rang the castle bell. Why?"

Arturia heaved and rolled her eyes, "Because you never take the bell seriously. Either way, do I need to change or am I fine as I am?"

"You seem fine the way you are…" The wizard then dropped to the intertwined hands of the two adult before him and he frowned, "But, you cannot be going in like that."

"Like what?" Arturia asked, raising an eyebrow as it had slipped her mind that she had Diarmuid's hand in hers.

Merlin sighed after seeing that Diarmuid got the point when his cheeks flushed red and he had to cover his face and look away, "You are hand-locked with this young man."

Arturia became beet red in seconds and she slipped her hand from Diarmuid, "I am presentable as I am then," she turned about and pushed through the door after Merlin had set the crown effortlessly on her head.

After sitting on the throne, a person was escorted in just as Merlin followed her into the room. Arturia was amazed to see the man that had bowed before her, "My King, how do you fare?"

"Tristan! Oh," She stood and hurried towards the tall red head, "Cousin, how was the trip? You should have told me that you were planning to visit me, I would have had chambers prepared for you, and at least a dinner."

Sir Tristan let out a short laugh at seeing his only female cousin bouncing towards him, "I wished to surprise you. I brought you many presents, one which I found along the way and I would rather you see that one first."

Arturia had noticed the change in the man's tone and she furrowed her brows. Tristan stepped aside just as the front doors of the room were opened once again, this time two females were ushered in; hands tied behind their back and were made to kneel before Arturia. Her green eyes grew and she whipped her head towards Tristan with a questioning look.

"I found them in the forest, trying to flee, a few miles away. I heard there had been an assassination attempt on the Urukian prince's life and these ladies seemed quite suspicious as they are wearing the court's uniforms." Tristan looked upon who he had captured, "But, alas, it seems that I might have missed one as the brunette refers to another woman quite often."

Arturia turned her attention back to the females and almost sighed, "You may stand," she directed; it was not a command, rather an option because they needn't bow at her any longer. Although, none of the ladies made any effort to move a single muscle, "Who ordered you to do this?"

The short-haired female sat in silence and did not even make eye-contact with Arturia, while the brunette was actively sending glares at the female king. Both the females were covered in mud and leaves, their dresses torn and their arms scratched all over. Arturia bent down in front of them—the wrong move in both Merlin's and Tristan's eyes.

"Ladies, I promise to give you the shortest punishment possible if you can tell me who it was that contracted you," A Just king, this was what she believed defined a Just king, while Tristan could see it as an overly nice king who was pushed around by their subordinates.

A glare came from the hazel eyes of the brunette, "I have no right to tell you, pretender."

Arturia blinked as she was at a loss of words, "Miss—"

Arturia and everyone else in the throne room were caught by surprise as the lady had spat at Arturia. The king immediately stood, bringing her sleeve to wipe her face, and Tristan hurried to her side just before the little violet haired boy ran towards them, Ko-Giru stumbling in after him. It seemed that they had been hiding behind the throne.

"You cannot treat auntie like that. She is the king!" The little boy managed to slur before he was swooped up in the red head's arms. With a few words and cries of protests he was being taken away while the guards advised Arturia to stay by the throne that was a few feet away.

Ko-Giru still remained awkwardly in the throne room before he saw Diarmuid giving him an irate look filled with surprise and confusion as well. Upon the closing of the doors behind Tristan, Ko-Giru stepped back, feeling it was better for him to remain with Arturia so as to avoid the punishment that was waiting for him in the hallway.

Arturia made no effort to kick him out because she believed he had the right to see his near-assassins, "I do not want to make a decision that puts your life on the line, miss, and therefore I do believe that you—at least—owe him the name of the person who sent you."

"I hope you rot in hell." The woman hissed, "They are coming for you and your reign will burn to ashes, _king_." It was evident that she wanted to lunge towards Arturia if she had a knife and rope wasn't holding her in place.

"I have right over her sentence, correct?" Ko-Giru turned towards Arturia, a look in his eyes that reminded her of Gilgamesh.

The blonde female gulped, "Yes, I would put your input into consideration." She spoke as calmly as she could without showing the fact that the little boy seemed a bit frightening.

"Hang her," he deadpanned, "there is no need for such an ill-mannered woman that would dare disrespect her king." Everyone in the room stared at the young man—he was but a little child speaking such words that seemed to match the stone heart of a cold man.

Arturia had opened her mouth to question the boy on his decision but she stopped short, "I will try to see to it as you wish." Her arms lay carelessly to her sides.

"If I so may be excuse, King Arturia," The Babylonian prince nodded his head and only after he was dismissed did he leave, taking in a deep breath to face Diarmuid.

"Send the woman to the dungeon, but leave the silent one, I still wish to speak with her." Arturia ordered, he voice strong and without emotion. After the guards had dragged away the feisty woman (of which put up a fight), Arturia stood again, "Tell me who contracted you and why."

The maid began to weep, her body shaking to every sob, "Please, don't kill me," she begged as she lifted her face towards the king, "I never… I n-never thought…" Chestnut brown eyes, tears streaming down dusty cheeks.

"Just," Arturia's voice was softer this time, so as to calm the female down, "tell me how you came to poison the Babylonian Prince."

"They," the woman sobbed, "they promised us a better life. They've been asking all the people, in the castle, in the village; everyone."

Arturia furrowed her brows, "Who? Who are _they_?"

"They're planning a war," the woman shook, or something along those lines, but—but they already have a lot of people's support."

"Who? Tell me." She was a bit forceful this time, not liking the anxiety that was creeping up around her.

The young lady began to cry again, "Please, do not hurt me… I never wanted to! I had to fend for my family, i-it was the only option!"

"I will not kill you. Your sentence will be to put you in prison, but you must tell me so that my knights have a reason to excuse you." Arturia calmly explained, "Tell me."

The sobbing died down, red brimmed eyes looking into clear green ones, "The Saxons."


	5. Incapable

Arturia stormed down the hallway, her heels almost digging holes in the ground with every step she took. Her green dress followed behind her with every ghastly move she made. Her jaw was clenched and she had her dress tightly in her fists. There was an evident frown on her lips, her distaste also lingering in her eyes.

Merlin was trying to get through to her but it seemed that she was only focused on getting to her chambers as quickly as she possibly could.

"Arturia!" Merlin finally was able to catch up to her, a deep frown on his lips. The stone hallway was quite dark, the only few torches were having trouble lighting up the castle because it seemed some had flickered off. Their eyes were as adjusted to the dark as they could be to the slight darkness. The crackling of wood also filled the corridor as one of the torches seemed to not be held together properly.

"The Saxons? The Saxons are after my throne... They've been taking over Logres for the past three years and now they have been brain washing my people." Her voice echoed against the beige stone walls that locked them in. She halted her march, lifting a hand to her head in disappointment, "You did not even tell me of what duties awaited me when you instituted me as king."

"If I had told you everything, you would not be King. Listen, Arturia, I promise that thee Saxons are no threat," a huge lie she would never discover, "you will battle them and win. They are of little importance."

Trying to calm her nerves, she slowly nodded her head and gulped, "And if that isn't so?" She asked, furrowing her brows and her eyes pooling with concern, "What if my father's legacy, the House of Pendragon, falls with my head on a pike. The Saxons have been successful in conquering Kent and Sussex, next it will be Camelot and Cornwall, what then? When they land on our shores and attack our people?"

"My liege, you must calm down, the Saxons will not come for you. Well, they will, but their efforts to conquer Camelot are to no avail. Believe me, I promise you." Merlin gulped, his voice had seemed a little shaky, but it turned out that his lie was just growing and he was afraid of what Arturia would do if she found out.

Upon reaching her chambers, she burst the door open and stomped in, followed by a worried Merlin. She fell on her bed, embraced by the fluffiness of the comforter and the many pillows that decorated the mattress. Now she wanted out of the dress and her maid was nowhere to be found. She let out a grunt as she sat up and pushed herself off the mattress back to her feet, "Take it off, please," She turned her back to Merlin, who had seemed stunned with her request, "You always do this for my sister, just untie it for me; this corset is killing me... being a man was much easier."

"Do not let the people hear that, my king." Merlin stated as his fingers began to fidget with the laces of her corset. The white corset was causing a lot of trouble for Merlin because he was uncomfortable with the situation.

The door burst open again, causing Merlin to almost yelp in surprise as if he had been caught cheating. Morgana stepped in, red dress complementing her complexion.

"Oh thank goodness you came, Merlin seems to have forgotten how to untie a corset." Arturia complained, irritation very evident in her voice as she also shot a glare at the hesitant male, "Sister, may you please remove this dreadful thing; I feel I might die."

"My king," Morgana bowed, dipping her body down before following the female's request. Arturia felt relief come with every breath as her sister unfastened the sturdy garment, "I heard two of the assassins were found by our cousin."

Nodding, Arturia slipped out of the corset and walked to the wardrobe, pulling out her night gown, "Yes, albeit, they have let one escape and that comes as a huge problem for the safety of the prince and my kingdom."

"As I understand," The brunette then helped Arturia out of her dress once Merlin had turned away from them, "I have heard from Sir Tristan that the Saxons were the ones behind the assassination attempt as they are trying to creat unrest within the kingdom so that their rule would be widely accepted by the people."

"I could only have imagined." The female king fixed the sleeves of her nightgown before patting it down and letting her hair fall free from the bun it was held in. Light curls hugged her face while she untied the braid and brushed her hair in front of the vanity, "I have a feeling that this is where my reign will end." She spoke causing the two wizards to look at one another in slight shock, but they had forgotten that she could see them through her mirror, "Although Merlin assures me otherwise."

Another silence had made the adults stand awkwardly but Morgana was the one to break it this time around, "And what Merlin says is correct. Dear sister, you have my aid in whatever is to come, but there will be nothing to worry about."

"Your constant assurances only get me even more worried." The blonde sighed and then stood from her vanity and walked to her bed, "Merlin, if you would please call a Round Table meeting as this is very urgent news I would need to discuss."

"Of course," Merlin nodded, "As my lord commands." Morgana followed him to the door before they excused themselves for the night.

Arturia sat on her bed in the silence of her room, her heart beating steadily but her mind going awry. What would happen if she wasn't king? If she had just fled the time Guinevere was holding the kingdom? Would Camelot really have been saved from the Saxons if it was Mordred to lead it to victory?

Her head hit the bed as she plopped down on it, "The crown is much too heavy." There was something causing her to not believe her court magicians with their trust in her rule. She had already lost the kingdom once, and a second time was very likely to happen. She pushed herself off the bed once more, hurrying to the wardrobe and choosing a coat before slipping her feet into some flat shoes and taking a torch in her hands. Whenever she was having trouble with her kingdom, she would go to the Kings' tombs and sit there a while to reflect on her worries.

The way to the tombs was quiet and she was already in the state of solitude. She descended a pair of stairs and made a couple of turns before she finally arrived at the big white birch doors. The guards on either side had saluted to her before opening the doors for her. She nodded at them in thanks and proceeded to enter the hall with a heavy heart. Licking her dry lips, she gave a nod of determination and stepped into the cold room.

There were limestone pillars on either side of the hall, intricate patterns carved into the stones to demonstrate the power and the riches of the House of Pendragon. She shut her eyes, knowing much too well the way the room was laid out. Her feet glided over the decorated brick floor towards the tomb of her father. The moonlight leaked in through a circular window in the ceiling, complimenting the blue paint that the rest of the ceiling was painted with, gold leafed stars scattered all over it.

"Hello father," her voice pierced through the silence like a lance through flesh, "Is it cold here?" Her eyes also landed on Gilgamesh's tomb, her heart shying away a little, "Should we bring more torches to light the hall in the evening?" A thought of Lancelot's body in a random forest scared her. She had sent many knights to retrieve his body, but no one was able to find it, not even her when she set out for it.

It was only natural that she did not get a response, "I am having yet another issue, father," she chuckled, "you might think I am incapable as a king now."

She set the torch down onto a stand and fell to her knees before the tomb of her father. She lowered her head onto the top of the tomb; it was carved with the body of her father and so she kissed his hand, the roughness of the stone grazing her lips, gently. She liked that they made the cover stone like such because it just felt like her father was taking a nap and he would awaken soon, "I need your guidance, father, I fear a Saxon invasion."

She heard the doors opened again and she immediately stood up from her kneeling position, wiping the tears from her eyes with her blue coat. he gulped, as if to send her sorrows and anxiety back into the core of her body; the bottomless pit she felt inside.

"Diarmuid, I told you to cease with the nagging. Yes, I do understand that I should not have run off, but that matters not anymore," Arturia understood the voice to be that of the prince that had surprised her with the harsh sentence he threw, "Mordred was showing me about, and I could not deny the Ward of the King. Now, if you would drop your nagging it would be greatly appreciated."

The young boy made it to the centre of the hall, still unaware of the King to his left as he reached the stone tomb of his older brother. He was silent after having scolded Diarmuid, he knelt by his brother's tomb and began to pray, a different religion than Arturia was familiar with.

"My prince," Diarmuid gave a deep nod, also not noticing the female that stood rather close to them, "I understand but with all due respect, I was worried about your well being." He spoke after the boy had made his praayers.

"We can speak about this later." It seemed that even Diarmuid was surprised with the strictness of the child.

"Yes, my prince." The tall male was now standing next to Ko-Giru, his head bowed to show respect to his late friend as well, both their backs turned to the female.

She ran her hand over her father's tomb, feeling all the edges and curves of the designs before she spoke up, "You should not argue in a catacomb." Her voice was as monotone as it usually was.

The boy had immediately hugged the leg of Diarmuid in a heart beat before squealing; she sure had scared him. While Diarmuid, on the other hand, had tried to turn about to see what he was up against.

"No need to be so afraid of a King." She had been delighted to see their reactions, so there was a light smile on her lips.

Diarmuid visibly relaxed when realizing it was Arturia who had nearly scared the boy to death, "My King, what finds you here?" He asked, his brows furrowed as he had wondered how she had gotten in without them noticing.

The woman shrugged, "The same reason you both are here. I came too visit my father and Gilgamesh." The smile remained on her lips.

Ko-Giru collected himself, standing from the floor and dusting himself off, "King Arturia," He bowed a little. A wave of relief washed over the king as she saw that he was still just a child.

"I apologize to have scared you, but it seemed both of you were very focused on your argument that you had missed me standing here." She brushed her hair to one side with her hand, causing Diarmuid to stand in a short trance.

After a short conversation, she excused herself and retrieved her torch before leaving the hall, making her way to her chambers so that she would hurry to sleep.

The following day, she was dressed for the meeting of the round that she had called for. Her hair was back up in a bun and this time, her crown lay on her head. She blinked a couple of times before pushing the doors of the meeting room open, making a straight line of her lips so that the knights would understand the importance of the matter.

Each man stood from their seats and had taken attention while she rounded the table towards her own seat. Once she took a seat, all the knights proceeded. Clearing her throat silently, she began, "I have called you all here for a very important matter that I feel you must all be aware of as you return to your states. The Saxons have begun to harass our lands; with hopes of conquering Camelot the same way the were able to take Kent and Sussex."

The table lit up in whispers and surprise with every word that the King spoke, "Therefore," her voice had come as a sturdy call so that the men could become silent, "I need all of you to start building up defences and assuring your castles do not get infiltrated by Saxon sympathizers."

"Is that what happened with the young prince?" One of the knights questioned, it was Percival.

Nodding, the king sighed, "I have been informed that Camelot is riddled with Sympathizers and it hurts me so as Camelot is being split into something my father did not want. That goes without saying, we do not attack unless we are; war is our last resort."

"I would think you would prefer bloodshed after Prince Ko-Giru's assassination attempt." Tristan blinked as he sat back on the chair.

"We will be having enough bloodshed with the beheading of one of the perpetrators... I do not want any of your states attacking without my consent or without being provoked by the enemy. We will be putting forth punishments for traitors, but we are not waging war." She stated, filling the room with her intense tone and power, "I will consult the court magus for his advice on warfare while we are defending. For now, stay in your states and if you are attacked, please send a messenger post haste."

It was not until dinner time that the meeting had ended. There was quite a lot of questions that were thrown at the king and talk of war and action, but Arturia was able to institute her power over her knights and generals, making sure that they were to follow her commands.

With the Saxons at her door, the female barely had time to think about anything else, let alone Diarmuid. Thus, it had taken her by surprise when she arrived at her chambers to take a bath and instead of a tub, found as crate full of letters.


	6. Letters Upon Letters

_My dearest Arturia,_

It was the first letter on top of the crate and she was already having a heart attack with his choice of an introduction. She closed her eyes and set the letter on the desk before standing. There was no doubt in her mind that it was going to take her ages to read all those letters—she almost felt lazy to read them, but her thumping heart did not let her mind wander from the idea of reading every last one. Walking to her dresser, she decided to change into her nightgown and prepare for bed but sleeping, however, was not an option tonight.

Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she settled onto the bed after dragging the crate to her bedside. The first letter was in her hands as she sat back on the many cushions of her bed and she proceeded to reading it, her cheeks feeling a little warm and butterflies in her stomach.

_As I had promised, the letters I have written for you are all together. It was quite the hassle bringing them without the King's inspection. Moving on, I do hope that you are able to read everyone, although I understand if not as Kingly duties are much more important than trivial matters of the heart. I have missed you dearly and am very relieved to see you once again._

_I cannot apologize enough for not having sent the letters, and I know that giving them to you now does not excuse the two years you waited patiently._

"Patiently?" She chuckled, "Expectantly, rather."

_I am quite certain you are simply dying to read the letters and thus I will not hold you back any longer._

_With love,_

_Diarmuid Ua Duibhne_

She closed the letter and threw her head back, filling her lungs as much as she could. She really did like Diarmuid—a lot, but this did not seem like the right choice for her kingdom. Without thinking about that too much, she grabbed the next letter, a completely random one. The date read April of the previous year and she quickly opened it.

_Arturia, my dear,_

_The king seems to really want me to stay, I have to wait a longer time to see you. I'm having a bit of trouble at court, there is a lady following me around and I cannot get rid of her as much as I try. I miss you, it was much easier to not hide my face and walk by a lady without being pulled towards the shadows of the hall or into some chambers._

_I am quite tired of this all._

_Though, I must add, I am still loyal; the days are getting longer as the time grows between our last goodbye. At least Ko-Giru keeps me occupied. I do admit that he resembles Gilgamesh but a little, and he is a fine young boy. I do hope he becomes a great King. How does Mordred fare? I hope he is doing well._

_Oh, my brother sent me a letter, he says that he will be visiting Jeanne in Francia, can you believe it? I do think that they could make a great couple… but my brother thinks too much of the physical. Have you spoke with Jeanne, perhaps? Last I heard, there was a civil war against the Burgudians in her lands._

_I had a nightmare the other day… a still born. I do not know what it means or why it was that I had the dream but it was very strange. I fear a lady at court might miscarry. I guess there is nothing to do but Pray._

_I will speak with you tomorrow; I hope to see you soon,_

_Diarmuid_

She flipped to another one, and another one, and another one. She had read about twenty when she felt her eyes become unfocused on the words and he mind begin to shut down, but she braved on to read the last one for the night.

_Dear Arturia,_

_I feel quite determined today. Please check the inside of the envelope, there should be a small present for you inside._

She had thrown aside the paper and even forgot where she threw it to, so she had to get out of her bed and look thoroughly for the envelope. After having found it under the pillow, she noticed it held a bit of weight and she was surprised she had not felt it any earlier.

Flipping the envelope in order to obtain what it held inside a small object fell into the palm of her hand. Her eyes fell upon a golden ring, much to her surprise. She brought the small thing to her eyes and examined it as much as she possibly could. It seemed to take the shape of a laurel crown with the delicate details it held. She reached for the letter with her right hand as she focused on the ring in her left.

 _Now, you might wonder what this is for, I bet. Ko-Giru and I were able to attend one of his sisters' wedding and you could not believe the amount of Gold she sported. I was rather surprised that the King was as rich as Gilgamesh had promised. That is not the point, though. I sent you this ring because—_ It seemed he changed his mind about what he initially wrote after this part because it was scratched off with the quill— _what I mean to say, is that with this ring, I hope you remember me as I do when I glance at the ribbon._

_Oh, the ribbon is tied to my wrist, as it is probably the only place I always look at. There was something I wanted to ask you but I feel that it is better to ask when we see each other once again._

_With love,_

_Diarmuid_

Arturia looked at the ring again and blushed, she thought that she had a vague idea of what the question was that he wished to ask her and so she removed her house's ring and placed on Diarmuid's before placing the ring back on her left ring finger again. Her eyes were settled on the golden band for a long while before se fell asleep.

The following morning, she was shaken awake by some _idiot,_ in her own words. Smacking the hand away, she groaned and held the sheets to her chest a little tighter, curling into the warmth of the bed, "No," she managed to say something before her eyes closed shut again and her breathing began to calm down.

"My dear King, it is time for mass." It was a female's voice, so very load and high pitched.

Groaning once again, Arturia tried to reposition herself on the bed, "Iseult, please, let me sleep."

"My king, God calls and so does a certain letter of someone you've been expecting to hear from." The Irish princess sighed and shook Arturia again, "Let us begin our day."

Arturia sluggishly sat up, brushing her hair away from her face and leaning onto her knees, "Diarmuid has already given me all the letters."

Iseult crossed her hands over her chest and frowned, "Not Diarmuid. Someone that you have yet to hear from after a few months now."

The female king was trying to think as hard as she could in her sleepy state to figure out who it was that had sent her an awaited letter. Her stomach growled and interrupted her thoughts as she fell back on the bed, "Could I eat something?"

"Mass first, food comes after; that is why it is called breakfast, because you are breaking your fast _after_ mass." The long-haired female was quite upset by this point, "Now, get dressed. Jeanne was the one to send the letter."

After hearing he old friend's name, she sat up again and slipped out of the bed, "Did she say she was visiting?" She asked, tilting her head as her feet glided towards the wardrobe.

"Only you can read the letter, as was requested on the envelope. My heart felt heavy when I looked at the letter, though, and I am not certain as to why it is so."

Arturia pulled out a red dress that Tristan had gotten for her from Cornwall and she looked at it with laziness as just thinking about slipping into it seemed too problematic for her, "The life of a woman is hard, is it not Iseult?"

Iseult glanced at the king before dropping her gaze on the crate of letters, "Some might agree." The open letter of Diarmuid caught her eye and she slowly picked it up. _A ring?_ She furrowed her brows and let the letter fall back into the crate before making her way to Arturia—who was having a lot of trouble throwing the dress over her head.

"Oh good, you've come to help me." Arturia was relieved as the folds of the dress were starting to smother her, "I swear this is harder than placing armour on."

Iseult aided the king and caught a glimpse of the thing golden band below the Kingdom's ring, "Oh, what's this treasure?" She pretended to not know a single thing as she held Arturia's left hand while the woman patted the dress into place.

Arturia's head shot up and her green eyes were filled with slight concern, "Um, what?"

"This lovely ring, where did you get it? I might go for one myself."

The Englishwoman's cheeks lit up quite colourfully and she signalled the other to come closer, "Promise not to tell Morgana,"

Iseult promptly nodded, a smile growing on her face.

The shorter of the two ran her teeth over her lower lip and closed her eyes for a short while, "Diarmuid gave it to me," a small smile tugged the edge of her lips as her eyes fell on the ring.

Iseult caught the look on the girl's face clearly, there was no doubt about it, "Are you in love with Diarmuid, Arturia?"

Arturia froze on the spot and it was hard for her to formulate any words, "U-uh…"

"Are you?" There was another voice that entered the conversation, causing the other two females to freeze.

"Morgana," Arturia breathed and pulled up her dress as she walked towards her sister, "You never wake up this early, are you going to join us in mass?"

Morgana was never one to attend church, so she looked at her little sister with an unamused expression and then rolled her eyes, "Mordred awoke me. That child gets quite rowdy when he is hungry," She refrained from folding her hands over her chest as she walked past Arturia, "Do you need help with the corset?"

"Oh, yes please." The blonde nodded and followed after her sister.

Morgana began to tighten the black corset around her sister; earning gasps and groans, "Do you…love Diarmuid?" She questioned.

"Why were you eavesdropping?" Arturia countered between sucking in air, "Oh, how I hate corsets."

"I was checking on new possible suitors, I even looked into Diarmuid… He would not be the most favourable of men, but I would take your feelings into consideration." Morgana tied it ne last time and Arturia immediately let out a sigh.

"Well, who did you find?" She asked, of course Diarmuid would be the best option in her eyes but with the threat of the lingering Saxons she had to think about her kingdom before her heart.

Iseult smiled and shrugged, "I would not look into suitors, if I were you, Morgana." Her smile grew, "Diarmuid and Arturia are already engaged."

"What?" Morgana turned to Iseult, "Is that true?"

"What?!" Arturia yelled, "Who said anything like that?"

"The ring says it all, oh please, I saw the way you looked at him when you were at the dinner the other night. He is a handsome man, but your face was that of a woman in love, not infatuation." The Irishwoman blinked, the smile on her lips more prominent than before.

Arturia left the room as fast as she could, making sure the other females did not go after her. She had left without shoes, and she secretly regretted that when the marble was freezing her feet. She held the red folds in her fists so that she would not trip as she jogged down the hallway and made a quick turn, bumping into someone.

She stumbled back, opening her eyes from the impact and for some reason she had expected it to be Diarmuid, but alas, it wasn't. It seemed to be just one of her knights, "Forgive me, my king," the knight bowed his head.

"Oh, worry not, the fault is mine after all," she slowly smiled.

"Will you be attending mass?"

Nodding, she replied, "Why yes, will I see you then?"

"Yes, my king."

"Until then," She nodded at him and le her breathing even out as she walked past the man. She looked down at the ring again and sighed.

"My king!" She turned about to see the same knight she had previously bumped into, "This letter is for you, I had almost forgotten."

"Oh," Arturia took the letter from the man's hand and smiled again, "why thank you."

The man bowed and continued on his way.

_Arturia,_

It was an odd start to the letter but Arturia knew Jeanne did not know how to write and so her thought was somewhere else when she was reciting it to her priest.

_I am sorry for not having written to you for months now. I do hope you have heard from Diarmuid and my letter finds you well._

_I write to you from a tower in Rouen. I have been captured by the rebel forces of the Burgundians and am put on trial. I promise that I will write again, but for now do not expect another letter. Do not fear for I know I will be released. I am being tried for heresy, do you believe it?_

_I would never commit a crime against God of all people and yet the trial proceeds. I am growing weary of the judges but I know God is watching and I will be freed soon. Last evening a guard came into my cell, but my priest came to visit me and I was saved, though I fear this will not be the only time they try to disrespect me. My patience shrinks every time I hear an obscene comment from those guards, but my faith is still strong._

_I wish I could write more, but my lords so limit this._

_God bless,_

_Jehanne d'Arc_


	7. Trouble with Suitors

The Mass had gone by fast and Arturia was aimlessly walking the halls as everything seemed hazy. She was afraid of Jeanne's trial and what the sentencing was. In the past few years, Arturia understood that the younger female had begun to reclaim parts of France that the rebel Burgundian forces had taken; there had been disputes of illegitimacy against the Dauphin at the time but after Jeanne had been able to get him crowned in Reims, France was starting to win back their land. It was surprising to Arturia that Jeanne had not had her ransom paid yet, as she was a woman loved by the people and courtiers alike.

"My king," she was snapped out of her thoughts by a man that had somehow materialized next to her without her knowledge. She lifted her head up in an instant, seeing the man that made her heart skip a few beats faster.

She instinctively covered her rings and formed a soft smile on her lips, "Oh, hello Diarmuid." She tried to seem as if she wasn't in deep thought about Jeanne, so that she would not cause him trouble as well.

"I wish to speak to you about urgent matters," he too seemed as if he had been in deep thought about something, "It is truly important as I wish for you to know by my words."

The blonde female furrowed her brows and gave a short nod, "Why yes, we could speak somewhere more private, if you would like. Is the throne room alright?"

"As long as we would be the only ones there, my liege." He was obviously troubled over something and Arturia thought that he too heard of Jeanne.

Arturia walked through the many halls, Diarmuid following her as fast as he could without running after her, she seemed quicker on her feet than before. They arrived at the Throne room, two knights on either side. She smiled at them and quickly asked if there was anyone waiting for her anytime soon, but they shook their heads in response.

Arturia pushed the doors open and quickly made her way inside, instructing Diarmuid to close the door behind himself. Upon having the silence fill the room quickly, Arturia thought not to sit down but rather face the man, eyes a little expecting and lips pursed together.

"My king," he gulped, eyes falling from hers; ambers that they were seemed almost afraid of what her reaction would be.

Arturia took a step closer towards him, resting a hand on his shoulder, "What seems to be bothering you, Diarmuid?"

The man lifted his head and then, slowly but surely, set a hand on her waist, "There is something I must tell you."

She was taken aback quite a bit as his behaviour was much more forward than ever before. She welcomed it, albeit, with caution because she was still a little shaken with the news of Jeanne, "What must it be?" She asked, tilting her head ever so slightly.

He took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes, much more determined than she had seen him, "My king, you must understand."

A smile slowly snaked into her lips and she chuckled, "I'm quite certain I will."

"The Prince and I will be leaving in two days' time." He was a firsthand witness of her smile disappearing slowly as the hint of joy in her eyes blinked away, her brows furrowing with every passing second and a frown creasing her lips.

"Pardon me?" She surely must have heard him wrong. She was blinking her green eyes as she slowly pulled away from him, "What do you mean by that?"

Diarmuid sighed, "Our advisor has told us that it was the king's order to return as soon as something unwanted occurred… We would have to leave, as the king dictates."

Her eyes dropped, she seemed to be searching for something; an explanation maybe, "You surely do not mean you will be returning to Uruk, do you?" She looked back up to him, hoping she was wrong.

"My king, I—"

She interrupted him, her voice growing stronger, "You are leaving? Again?"

"Arturia, let me explain," The Irishman was trying his best to calm her growing anger, the fire of wrath visibly showing in her green eyes. Since he still had his hand resting on her hips, he pulled her in a little closer, hoping to keep her in check.

"No!" She saw through him and ripped away from his embrace, this time making her voice as harsh as a raging storm, "I… I have waited five years for you and I _sure_ hope you don't think I will be waiting any longer," she spat.

The wrath in her eyes made him reply in the same tone, his patience tipping over with every word that tried to suppress him; her words bubbling something deep in his gut, "I promised Gilgamesh I would take care of his brother—I cannot break this promise," the following words came as hissed as a snake, "You _clearly_ wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't- _ah_!" Her face twisted with anger, "How _dare_ you?" She growled through clenched teeth, "You don't think I didn't promise something to Lancelot or Guinevere when they died? In fact, I have promised to many people that have died in my hands and I've even broken many of those. As a king I have had to let down many knights!" She yelled, her vision blurring as there was melancholy and sadness mixed in her words.

He had immediately regretted having spoken to her in the same manner, "Arturia that was not what I meant." Diarmuid tried to reason, taking a step closer towards her and hoping to calm her down with some sort of intimacy as his voice came like soothing waves.

She smacked his hand away before he could fully reach out to her, "You are so selfish!" Diarmuid could not explain the look on her face. Have you ever seen a person in so much anger? They almost look _ugly_. Arturia was beautiful, but this… She was not ugly per say, but the way her face was twisted, the rancor in her eyes—she wasn't herself. "I—I… As a woman I have pressures from my people because I know that the older a woman gets the harder it is for her to bear any children." She barked, her blood boiling, "And you think that my people are simply looking past the fact that I have not delivered an heir after five _bloody_ years on the throne? I have turned down countless suitors just because I had hope you would return… and yet, _you_ … you are leaving again without a second thought?" A tear fell from the corner of her eye but the anger still present.

"Arturia I—" He was trying to calm her down, he didn't like her this way… "Just listen to me."

"Leave! I don't want to see you right now!" She screamed, taking a seat on her throne because the anger was too much for her to handle.

"Could you stay silent and hear me out for a simple second?" Speaking with someone in rage was completely pointless. There was nothing he could say to calm her down.

She grabbed the closest thing to herself, which happened to be a silver goblet and threw it his way, missing him, "I said get out!" It was the sound of the goblet crashing against the floor that had the guard rushing in.

A guard took Diarmuid by his arm tightly, "Would you like us to escort him out, my King?"

Arturia opened her mouth to speak but Diarmuid harshly shook off the man's grasp, "Do not fret," he growled, "I was just leaving." He dusted himself off and took a deep breath before giving the lady a bow nonetheless and turning to leave.

"Do not expect me to wait for you any longer!" She called after him as he stormed off. After dismissing her guards, she sank back in her chair and let the dread form in her gut as she gave a huge sigh. She closed her eyes shut and steadied her breathing for she did not want to fall into a fit again and she also did not want to fill herself with anger. She looked down at the ring she had placed on the previous evening and she felt the rage building within her again; she prepared to take off the ring and throw it out as well but she refrained, keeping it on still.

The curl of dread was still there at dinner time when she had to face Diarmuid at the table. Everyone seemed to notice the fact that there was tension between the two for even Ko-Giru and Mordred kept looking back and forth between the two adults.

It should definitely not have been shocking when Morgana followed Arturia with a prominent frown on her lips, "What is going on?"

Arturia was visibly upset, her demeanour seemed nothing less than annoyed and intimidating, "Whatever do you mean, dear sister?" The sarcasm lacing her words so densely.

"Do not respond to me like that, must I remind you that—not even if you are King—I am still older than you." Morgana growled. The ill-temperament of her younger sister always caused her bitterness because there was little to be emotional about, "Are you going to tell me what is going on between the both of you?"

"Nothing." Arturia nearly growled, continuing on her path towards her chambers.

Morgana, at this point, had had enough and thus she grabbed her sister by the arm and pulled her towards herself, "You are not a young girl, stop acting like a child and act more like the responsible adult you are."

The rich green eyes were turned to slits, "I think you should ask him why I am upset with him, he will be able to explain the situation."

"Perfect. Well, in either way, since it is very clear that you do not like him, you will meet your suitor tomorrow. This man is best choice you can make, you _have_ to accept it; there's only so many people you can turn down, _my_ _king_." Her half-sister nearly growled before letting her arm go and disappearing past a bend in the hallway.

A frown set steady on Arturia's lips even until the following day, her head leaning on her right hand as she sat at her desk, looking over the papers that Merlin had brought for her to sign. It was chilly outside and one could bare see the sun leaking through the dense grey clouds that held the sky in place. It looked as if it was going to rain anytime soon but it had been that way for the entire morning.

"My King, your suitor is waiting for you." Merlin gulped as he entered the room.

Arturia glanced down at the golden band around her ring finger and she heaved, "Well, let them in, then." Morgana had already threatened her, she _had_ to marry whoever walked through that door—no matter what. She had been stalling marriage for five entire years, there was no way in hell she was going to stall it any longer with the Saxons at her doorstep.

Merlin gave her a deep bow and opened the door, the creaking of it filled the room, reminding her she had to ask someone to oil them anytime soon.

A tall man, hair the colour of roses entered the room, a solemn smile on his lips. His white suit wrinkling as he bowed before his King.

Arturia blinked, "Is he even here yet, Tristan?" She called out to the man, furrowing her brows, "If he is yet to be here, I will proceed in my paperwork."

"My king," Tristan began, "With all due respect, I am your suitor." His words caused an electric shock to run through her body, she had to drop her quill without another second holding her back.


	8. Autumn Breeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you like this chapter and please tell me what you think. Everything is slowly starting to move into place right now and tell me what you think of Tristan and Arturia?

Clearing her throat, she sat back on her seat, "I surely do not need a court jester as I can remember." She crossed her arms over her chest, frown steady on her lips for she was not taking her cousin seriously.

Metal clinked a little as the man straightened his back, "My King," he began again, pushing aside her quite rude comment about him jesting her, "The true reason I came here was not just to shower you with gifts, Morgana personally sent me a request to present myself as a suitor. I know very well that you can manage a kingdom by yourself… But I also am aware that you are in need of delivering a child. We are third cousins and I understand you might feel wary of this marriage, but…"

"But it's beneficial?" Arturia raised an eyebrow, knowing much too well the perks of marrying Tristan; he was next in line for the throne of Cornwall. Maybe this was the beginning of it all—her fate to unite Albion. She should have expected this after pulling the sword; her fate was never really hers to choose.

"Of course it would be, at least that is how Morgana sees it." His voice was steady, hand resting at the pommel of his sword, hazel eyes glazed over with confidence in his statement.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes in the process and then stood from her seat, she forced a smile on her face and rounded the desk, placing the quill neatly into the ink, "If it means uniting Albion, it will have been worth it." There was a pain in her heart, and tension formed all over her body. For Camelot, she assured herself as she extended a hand towards Tristan.

His eyes had grown for a fraction of a second and then he walked towards her, his steps light and almost ghostly. He slipped her hand into his own and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss atop it, "I promise to treat you like a queen." He was sincere and quite afraid in his own way.

They were walking down the hallway, her hand around his whilst they talked about something seemingly unimportant. It was an odd feeling in her chest, she nearly felt guilty and there was unsettlement in her gut; but he was sweet and would be a great co-monarch.

"Well, I do believe that I _should_ bid the king a farewell. She has honestly done quite a bit for me and it would be rude not to say goodbye." Arturia and Tristan fell silent upon the cute voice of the foreign prince, a frown setting on Arturia's red lips.

The short blonde entered the picture from the corner of the hall, his clothes heavy and prepared for the autumn breeze and a knight clad in green following him with his very own impatient frown. The red eyes of the boy landed on the pair and he stopped short, causing the man behind him to also slow to a sudden halt and have a glare shot at the two.

Arturia stretched a smile on her lips, their rich red taunting Diarmuid for he had still allowed his heart to flutter at the sight, "My dear prince, how are you?" She tilted her head, hoping to taunt him a little more, but still feeling guilt in her gut.

Ko-Giru looked between the two adults a few times then back at Diarmuid for a mere second before lifting an eyebrow, "I am well, and you, my king."

"Great," her smile got wider—if that could even happen—and she tightened her grip on Tristan's arm.

Tristan could feel the tension in the air and he would rather keep silent. He saw the glances that Diarmuid and Arturia had exchanged at the dinner table before and there seemed to be something going on between them, but ever since the previous evening they were very hostile towards one another and Tristan was not one to get in between people fighting it out.

"My King, I…" The young male looked away for a second then set his gaze on the female, "I wish I could have said this in a much more… _adequate_ place, for lack of a better word. You see, my advisor has told me that my father so wishes me to return home. I am aware of your displeasure with this decision," his eyes flickered in the direction of Diarmuid, assuring to Tristan why they had a bitter relationship at the given moment, "But it is what my father, the king, wills. I am sure you will understand."

Arturia's smile had dropped a few seconds prior to her speaking, "I understand, I would ask for the same if my son was in peril in an unknown land." She sounded so sophisticated and Diarmuid could simply not harbour anger towards her, she was just so charming—in her own way, "I send his majesty my greatest apologies for it is not the first time a son of his is harmed under my watch, and under Diarmuid's."

Alright, Diarmuid already took the charming thing back as he grinded his teeth and turned away, refraining himself from responding back. He kept silent and waited for his current master to bid his final farewell.

"I am glad that you understand," he completely ignored that she had thrown Diarmuid under the carriage, "We will be departing in an hour, I would love it if you would watch us leave."

Arturia smiled at the boy, wishing to decline but formalities never allowed, "I will be there without a doubt, Prince."

They parted after a few words and Tristan could not keep to himself any longer, "Is that why you are angry with him?"

Arturia shot her head at the man her arm was hooked around, "Pardon?" Her brows furrowed causing for him to sigh.

"He is leaving, again. I imagine how this is taking a toll on you, but you should not be angry with him. I would think it best to part with a smile on both your faces because you did all you could to be together; you just could not be together anymore."

"What?" Arturia's cheeks lit up.

"It's obvious that you love him, but you cannot part with a few screams; you have to give him a proper farewell because then you will be clinging to him forever… I know our relationship is political but that doesn't mean I would want you thinking of someone else for the remainder of our marriage."

She took Tristan's words into consideration, a frown on her face as she leaned her head on the desk. She had already written the letter for Gilgamesh's father and there were only a few minutes before they were to leave for Uruk. She took a deep breath and stood from her seat, Tristan was right; she couldn't hold onto him over regret.

She walked to her door and upon opening it, she was surprised to see the Irish knight before her. His honey eyes were looking nervous, anxiety also evident with the frown on his lips and the fact that he ran his handover his hair, "D-Diarmuid…?" She stuttered out, the letter for King Dumuzid slipping from her fingers and fluttering to the floor.

The male dipped down and picked up the envelope, reading the name on the back and then tucking it into his coat. He looked at her again and her pale lips opened to speak, "King, we will be departing and my master would wish for your presence."

"Come in," she spoke before she could think, stepping to one side and allowing him in before she closed the door, "I am sorry to have acted the way I did yesterday, it was rude of me and I deeply apologize; my behaviour was not that of a king." Her gaze dropped to the golden band around her hand, "I would like to inform you," her voice fell to a more uncertain tone, "Morgana has chosen a suitor for me."

Surprise flashed over the man's features and he almost coughed— _almost_ , "I-is that so?"

Arturia gave a soft nod, and she brought her hand up so he could see it, "I read your letter, the ring is lovely and it would have been delightful to spend more time with you, but I feel that I cannot choose my own destiny as it has already been written for me." Her voice was solemn and her eyes were still trained on the ring.

"Albion," Diarmuid nodded, "I understand."

She finally made eye contact with him and her breath caught in her throat for a few seconds before she forced herself to speak, "I am sure you will find a lady worthy of your love, for I am not she."

It was sudden but it did not surprise Arturia when he took a step towards her, taking her hand in his own, the way Tristan had a few hours prior—except this time around, there was a certain tenderness, "Is Tristan your betrothed now?" His voice was soothing and it sent shivers down her spine.

She nodded her head upon drifting her gaze from his eyes, gulping just as the guilt washed over her.

His fingers slid over her cheek softly, his palm directing her back to him, "He seems honourable, I'm sure he'll treat you right." His voice became quitter and his face approached her a bit more.

Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest and she felt the warmth of his breath on her lips, "You are worthy of a pure love," his lips brushed against hers and then he kissed her softly, he pulled back, holding her chin in between his fingers as he scanned her half-lidded eyes, "You will be the greatest king." He gave her one last kiss and upon pulling away, a smile on his lips while dropping his hand from her waist and the other from her face.

She pulled him into a hug, snuggling her face into his chest and wrapping her arms tightly around his torso, "There's no need for you to leave again." She felt right in his arms, no amount of prophecy could convince her that they weren't meant to be.

They stood like that for a while until Diarmuid pulled away, "The prince and I ought to be on our way now." It was a silent walk to the castle doors and a political final farewell as the King saw them off, silently bidding her farewell to Diarmuid for the last time.

* * *

The chains around her wrist were heavy and she had to climb those long set of stairs with her feet also weighing down with the metal. She was pushed harshly into the cell and a guard had finally released her from the shackles.

The loss of weight felt refreshing as she slowly sat down on the hard bed, the small window seeming tempting at this time—as always. She had already tried her escape and falling seventy feet was not as easy as it would ever sound; it had been a miracle that she wasn't harmed.

She closed her eyes and laid back, letting her breath leave in a loud sigh. She wasn't feeling well again, there was only so much they fed her and the trial was exhausting her greatly. The tears slid down from the corner of her eyes as she felt scared again; the fear of the death she knew would come. Her counsel was quite these days and she was sure it was because she was loosing her hope, but with their silence she only felt much more scared. She knew that she would fulfill her vocation soon, but she did not know if it would end with freedom from a cell or Martyrdom—freedom from the earth.

The heavy prison door opened and she quickly sat up, on her guard for she knew what could happen. Relief washed over he when she saw the familiar face of her priest, "Father," she smiled, wiping the tears from her eyes, "What brings you here?"

The father returned the smile and then he had to drift his gaze from her glossy violet eyes, "The trial is not going in your favour, my dear. I suggest we ask the king for his aid again."

Jeanne shook her head, "Maybe we should just have faith, whatever God wills will happen." Her words had fortitude but she needed more of it, "I would like another confession, father."


	9. A Waking Dream

There was a fire climbing high into the sky—the sky was red with burning ashes floating about as peaceful as ever, despite the hell below. Her lungs filled with heavy smoke, the cries of falling men making shivers fall down her spine. Her dress was torn and stained with blood, her hands were shaking but she could not form coherent words. She frantically looked around, analyzing the hell she truly was in. Her mind was slow to process where she was and from the wild flames a figured appeared; blonde wavy hair to her waist, red eyes that of rubies and a red dress that matched more the colour of blood.

A hand from the pale skinned woman was extended towards her, inviting her into the fire, "This is your destiny." Her voice was soft, but very determined.

She backed away, tumbling over and landing on dusty ashes. She heard a shriek ring in her ears as the fire grew and the female before her furrowed her brows. Flapping wings directed her attention to the red sky as something large flew past them.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, you were born for this." The woman coaxed soothingly.

She shook her head rapidly, closing her eyes shut. She wasn't for this; she wasn't falling for the trap. This wasn't who she was.

_She was different._

She screamed.

Panting, she awoke, a thin layer of sweat glazing over her body. She slowly sat up, rubbing her face as if to rid herself of the dream. She ran a hand through her dark tresses, trying her best not to think about the fire in the dream. She slumped forwards, into her knees and dug her face in them.

This wasn't the first time she was having this dream. It started about a year prior to and it had been occurring much more often over time. She had it about four times this week and it was troubling her greatly. She had yet to speak with Merlin because she was afraid of what he would think. This wasn't a typical dream she should be having—this was not a nightmare; it was a vision.

Morgana lay back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and hoping the face of the female in her dreams would not appear a fifth time this week. She had an inkling as to who the woman was but she was never certain.

* * *

It was a normal day in the castle, as bustling as it usually was. No one seemed to miss the young foreign prince and his guard, but Arturia sure did. She walked through the garden, her arm hooked around Tristan's as he talked about one of his many battle victories. Five years had been enough for them to catch up, and after the great surprise of her being female, they had grown together more… But she did not see him romantically, even if he was a very kind and sweet man.

"Arturia!" Sang a voice from behind them. Arturia was quick to turn around, smiling at her blonde friend, "Oops, sorry to interrupt."

"Worry not, Iseult." Arturia greeted her with a bright and prompting smile, "You were not interrupting anything of major importance."

Iseult smiled at her friend and then her eyes landed on the male next to her. He seemed as handsome as any knight of the round, but there was a certain sadness that lingered in the air around him, "Morgana is looking for you, is it alright if I can steal her from you, my dear knight?"

"Of course, but you must bring her back," he smiled at the Irish Princess.

Iseult had given the man one last smile before she pulled Arturia along with herself to wherever Morgana must have been waiting.

Morgana was sitting in her room, Mordred playing about with a sword and pretending to be defeating a dragon.

"Hello," Morgana glanced over at them, not paying them much heed as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Arturia patted the little boy's head and he gave her legs a small hug before slipping back into character, "Yes sister? You needed me?" She asked, furrowing her brows and tilting her head.

"How are you?" She finally stepped away from the vanity, smiling at the younger one.

The blonde tilted her head, exchanging a glance with the Irish princess before turning back to face the brunette, "I am well, and you, dear sister?"

Morgana sighed, "I fear I cannot sleep for every time I close my eyes, a nightmare haunts me." It wasn't until she had said this that Arturia caught sight of the exhaustion in her face, droopy pale eyes, dark circles under said eyes and dry lips that lost their previous pink tint. Even her curly hair was much unrulier than it ever was.

"Nightmare?" Iseult chirped, blinking her eyes a bit, a slender hand pushing her wavy hair back, "What is it about?"

Morgana flickered her gaze over to her child, his small hands swinging a wooden sword about, "That was not why I requested your presence, albeit, I called you here because I wanted to entrust Mordred in your hands, Arturia." Everyone in the room—little boy included—shot their heads towards her, eyes wide like watermelons.

"Pardon?" Both the blonde women blinked in sync.

Arturia continued, "Whatever do you mean?"

The brunette sighed, closing her eyes, "You see, my nightmare wasn't much of a dream, rather a vision… It would be best if you are to take care of Mordred from now on."

Mordred, who had previously dropped his wooden sword on the floor, hurried over to his mother, his eyes filling with tears, "Mommy, where are you going?"

Morgana smiled and pet the boy's head, "Nowhere, I'm staying here but Aunt Arturia will be the one to look after you most."

Arturia coughed, shaking her head, "Morgana, you are aware that I am a King and that means that I must be worrying about my land and people and not simply focusing on a single child."

"It would be great practice for when you and Tristan have children, think about it. The only difference is that if Mordred becomes your ward you will not have to share him with the country." The older of the two sisters stated, pushing her hair to one side. There was slight pain in her chest because although she had grown to love her adopted son, she had to keep him safe; even from herself. The thought of her becoming twisted and evil let a seed of anxiety plant itself in her heart.

Arturia had become immobile at the mention of Tristan and her having children, but when none of the other females made a further comment, she gave a nod, "It would be good practice," she echoed, "but then again, he is your son and I would not want to be taking him away from you."

"It is for the best, as I have mentioned."

Arturia could hear the weight of Morgana's words and curiosity suddenly took the best of her, winning her conscious and manners over, "The future," she recalled, "what did you see in the vision?"

Morgana stopped moving completely for a minute, "Uh," her voice was hoarse.

Iseult stepped towards her, her bluebell dress flowing behind her, "Was Mordred in trouble?"

The brunette shook her head, "No, but he could be." She glanced at the boy who was still hugging her tightly, his big grey eyes curiously looking at her, not quite following the females' conversation.

"I…" Arturia ventured, "I've also been having a strange dream." She furrowed her brows, "I cannot seem to ever remember it when I awake but I wake with cold sweat and a single word on my lips… ' _Aithusa'_."

Morgana also furrowed her brows, "Aithusa…" She repeated, "I have never heard the name before…"

* * *

"When are we getting there?" The young boy whined out the window to his guard on a horse. They had travelled for about four days and were to reach the port city anytime soon.

"We still have a few months to go in order to get to Uruk, my prince." Diarmuid responded, his lips a thin line.

Ko-Giru groaned, throwing his arms over the carriage window, like limp noodles, "It would have been better to remain with King Arturia. She was simply such a wonder."

No comment came from the Irish knight; the reins on his horse tightening in his grip until his knuckles turned white. Hazel eyes had lost their interest in the surrounding trees and he finally look onwards. From the top of the hill, Diarmuid's eyes spotted black smoke a couple of miles away—where the port city was to be. Not even the thick trees could hide the growing flames. Something huge flew erratically around the smoke.

The travelling party stopped dead short atop the hill. A telescope brought to the knight for a better view of the situation, while Ko-Giru tried to pry through the carriage window for a view. The sight revealed an animal of sorts, not one Diarmuid had ever seen before but one he surely was familiar with.

He gasped, catching the curiosity of the young boy, "A… Dragon?" Surely they had been a myth, dragons were only folklore that people made up to make their life a little more interesting. However, the sight of the burning village was enough to assure Diarmuid that Dragons were as real as the boy next to him.

Diarmuid had been a knight to protect his people, he had gone to battle to defend those who needed freedom, and thus his first instinct was to help. But it was the boy's cry that had Diarmuid halt his horse only a few meters away. He had launched his horse forwards and Ko-Giru had been so surprised that he almost didn't call out.

"My prince," he gasped, his responsibility flooding back to him.

"They… We need to tell Arturia." The boy changed his thoughts whilst he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought of the port's fate.

It was the sudden trotting of a horse that caught everyone's attention. From the thick treed trails, a soot covered horse emerged, carrying a single person as they were almost limp on the poor animal.

The scared horse finally calmed at the sight of other horses, slowly coming to a stop in front of Diarmuid, it's loud panting filling the silent hilltop.

The man on the horse lifted himself sloppily, his eyes heavy and his breathing matching the horse's, "A-attacked. The Saxons…" The man heaved, clutching a hand to his stomach, "They've reached our shores… The king…" With that, the man slopped forwards unto the horse, falling unconscious and into deep sleep.

Loud screeching filled the air, it was surprising that the animal had such a strong call to reach them from miles away. The deafening shrill rung in their ears, hauntingly frightening them all and plunging the country into a state of long lasting fear.

No one would truly know the impact of the oncoming Saxons with just a glance at the _only_ port city in Camelot.


	10. Confines

Arturia was smiling, watching as the dinner table was alive with music and conversations. Her favourite part of the day had to be dinner, who would ever dislike eating and preparing for bedtime. At the given time, Tristan was promptly sitting next to her, a respective smile on his lips—he too was enjoying the lovely dinner.

She watched the redhead from the corner of her eye, guilt building up from deep within her chest. She had to constantly remind herself that political marriages were not always laced with love; or loyalty—not that she would not be loyal, but that fact that her heart was racing for someone other than the one she was subject to marry made her feel heavy with culpability.

The candle lights lit up the dinner hall quite nicely, giving it a warm glow and just the deep crevices of the room were shrouded in the shadows of the early evening. Arturia sat in peace, the chatter of the dining room not fazing Arturia the slightest… that was until Merlin tapped her shoulder rather hurriedly.

She lifted her gaze up to meet him, blinking up at him in question, she managed a small smile, "Yes, Merlin?"

He had a frown on his lips, worry weaving his brows and shaping his body, "There are some news."

"News?" She raised a brow in inquiry, "Are they important and deserve my attention immediately?"

He gave her a steady nod, "In fact, you have an audience, my king."

Arturia stood making the men at the table rise to their feet hurriedly. She frowned at the people seated as she spoke, "Forgive me, but I must retire for the evening." She announced before she steeped away from the table.

"Would you like for me to accompany you, my King?" She heard the redhead call from behind her.

Arturia turned her head towards the man, delight on her features for a fraction of a second, "It would be ever so kind of you."

After having settled down on the throne, arms on either side of her and Tristan to her left, she called for the visitor to enter the audience room. Her eyes were on the door, indifference on her lips and no emotion in her eyes once again. She was great at this, keeping her emotions locked up—far from anyone's reach or even sight.

The doors opened with few long groans, gasping as they screeched to a stop. From the corner of one of them, a young man emerged; tall with a black cloak clinging to him, a hood over his head which happened to cloud his features with thick shadows. He pulled off his hood, kneeling before her; cloak expanding like a raven's wings. He knelt on one knee, arm draped over it while he bowed his head down.

She had only caught a glimpse of him and it dawned upon her who he was; his physique and hair had made her gasp—not loudly, albeit, not even audibly.

"My king," he breathed, lifting his head so that his honey eyes would meet hers, "I bring you news of your port city."

"My port city?" She furrowed her brows, standing from her seat in a swift and quick motion, her dress being pulled towards her, "What sort of news?"

His eyes were kept on hers, letting his gaze follow her every move; taking in her features, those green worried eyes of her, the folds of her dress, her weaved brows. He was afraid of how she was going to act when she heard the news. He looked down at the stone floor, gathering his courage.

"It has been attacked." He kept his voice steady, flickering his gaze back up to her.

She stopped her pacing, turned to him properly—earrings swinging in the erratic movement—her eyes wild with anger, "Pardon me?" She stepped towards him, "Whatever do you mean by that?"

He gulped, opening his mouth to answer.

Worry splashed her face, "Where is Ko-Giru? Did you get attacked as well?" she urged, walking to him and taking his arm, pulling him up from his kneel.

"He is completely fine; we did not even reach the city. We witnessed a growing fire and a heavy cloud of black smoke climbing into the sky as _something_ circled the town…" He trailed off, uncertain of his very own words. Surely, he had gone insane.

"Something?"

"There was screeching, and flapping wings…" He paused, "The Saxons have something— _something big._ Something I would have never thought existed… or rather, I never _believed_ it were real."

Arturia raised an eyebrow quizzically, her eyes narrowing and head slightly tilting, "What do you mean by that?" She inched closer towards him, so much so that they were only inches apart. She needed to see the truth in his eyes; what he was thinking.

He looked away from her, his eyes having locked with the red-head's hazel eyes. He felt a flash of jealousy wash over him but he supressed it quickly; shutting it away in the deepest corner of his mind, "A creature," he breathed, his eyes flickering back down to hers—fear filling his gut all over again—he licked his lips, "You will not believe me if I tell you, but it is the truth."

She blinked, "A creature?" Her eyes had dropped to his peach lips, gaze locked on them.

"A dragon."

Silence surfaced from the deep ocean in the room; the way a whale would to take in a breath of air. Diarmuid watched the woman blink a couple of times as she seemed to be digesting the information. Her head dropped while she thought deeply of it and then it shot up, she believed him—he could see the freight in her eyes, but her shoulders shook with a nervous laugh while she was in denial, "You must be jesting with me."

"With all due respect, my liege, would I have returned to court after an attempt on my Prince's life if it were not so?" He drew his hand to his chest, "I am a man with honour. What I speak is the truth." His honey eyes narrowed, flickering to the red-head once more who wore an expression of fear.

Arturia gulped, hands dropping to clutch the folds of her dress, grab at the fabric which offered some stability, "My _only_ port city? What you mean to say is that _my_ port city—Addany—has been occupied by Saxon thieves?" The anger returned, the rage in her eyes evident when she questioned him.

Diarmuid nodded, "I apologize for this news."

She covered her mouth, making her way towards the throne rather harshly; her grace wavering for a few seconds as she sat down.

Tristan and Diarmuid both stepped towards her to offer condolence, but Diarmuid stopped in his tracks when the Englishman glanced at him. He felt it there, the fact that he was no longer in Arturia's life, that he was no longer the one to hold her and comfort her in her anguish, the one to hold her tightly when she needed reassurance and the one to kiss her when she did something right. It was Tristan now.

Tristan moved again towards her, kneeling next to the throne and taking her hand in his, "Arturia, dear, the Saxons will not continue to move further into your lands. We will crush them at the marshes."

She took a shaky breath, green eyes lifting from her dress to the man, "Shall we gather the Table?" She asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.

Arturia had always been a strong woman, but insurance was something she lacked after her traumatic experience. She still had to learn to trust and have confidence. Diarmuid could see she needed that sometimes.

"We could ask Merlin to inform the dukes." Tristan soothed her, rubbing circles on the back on her hand with his thumb.

Diarmuid had to look away, the feeling of jealousy filling him again, "I…" he began, "Might I be excused to see to my master?"

"Wait," Arturia stood at the sound of his voice, "Before you leave…" her voice trailed as she stopped before him. "I have one last question."

He lifted a brow, "Anything for my, my king."

"Do you know Aithusa?" She asked, her brows knitting as she reached out towards him, stopping herself before she took a hold of his arm.

Diarmuid shook his head almost immediately, "I truly apologize but I fear I have never heard it before."

She nodded, slowly, "Thank you, Diarmuid. Thank you for returning. Thank you for thinking of me."

* * *

 

Her eyes fluttered open, the hard bed would barely allow her to sleep. The thin sheets would not be enough to cover her thin body anymore. She had been imprisoned in the tower for nearly a year now, her patience was slipping away along with her life. Every second of every day she would pray that she would exit.

Every night the fear crept upon her, demons calling her to give up, to deny the call of heaven. She would cry, holding her only possession; a ring her family had given her with the words 'Jesu-Maria' engraved in them.

The moonlight could make it through the thick bars in the window, but so was the cold breeze, chilling her to the bone. He skin was delicate, bruising at even the softest hit, her eyes had sunken in, her frame skinny so that her ribs would protrude. She was very weak, barely being able to stand in the mornings. The cold seeped into her veins, filling her and making her shiver.

She pulled the blanket over herself, it was not much but at least it was something. Her eyes were fixed on the rough stone ceiling, eyes heavy with sleep but body aching.

"Martyrdom," she prayed for it, inviting it in the darkness of the night; hissing at the temptations and opening her heart to God.

"Michael," she called for her dear friend, hoping to hear him as she had many times before, "Michael… I wait again to hear you. I will always listen, even unto death."

No voice returned to her but there was a tingling in her fingertips as warmth filled her. She curled up, listening to the lullaby God was playing just for her. Just for her ears. Her eyes fluttered closed, moonlight lighting part of the dark cell, crickets singing for her and a warm breeze kissing her face.

She slept.

Her eyes fluttered open again; this time it was morning. The birds chirped and flew past her window. The sun shone bright but did not enter her cold, dark cell. She hugged her legs as she tightly wrapped the blanket around herself.

The knock on the door distracted her.

"Yes?" She called out, her violet eyes glancing over, breath slow.

"I am here." She heard her priest call before he was allowed in, "How are you?" He gave her a warm smile, something she had welcomed. He stepped towards her, black shoes squeaking slightly.

"Better…" She hummed.

"I brought you something," he whispered, opening his satchel and pulling out some bread, "How did you sleep?"

Her eyes widened at the sight of the food, the smell of bread finally hitting her. She reached out for her gift, taking it into her hands, "I had a dream."

"Was it a good dream, Jeanne?" The sturdy nose of priest wrinkled in fear.

She nodded, "It was heavenly." Jeanne mumbled, "My father caressed my head as I slept soundly. The warmth of the sun warming my back, the smell of honey floating around us."

"Your father?" Jeanne's family was not in sight. Her father and mother knew not that she had been captured as no one had the heart to tell them. Her brothers were probably somewhere with the army, probably Paris.

"My heavenly father," a tear slipped from her eye, landing with a soft 'plop' on her hand, "I felt loved."

"You are loved, my dear." The priest encouraged, "There are many people in France that are begging the King to help you."

"I know. But there will be no love greater than what I felt in my dream, what I will achieve in heaven. I pray for that day."


	11. Make it Stop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note
> 
> Wow, okay so it's been a long while since I updated this and honestly, I am very sorry.
> 
> Many of you don't actually read these Author's Notes, I'm sure, but all is well. I mostly wanted to say that this chapter came out way different than I had imagined before. The second part of this chapter deals with a sensitive subject and I originally wasn't going to incorporate it but I thought about what Arturia had gone through and I've been reading up a heck of a lot of Knight facts and what not and I think this would really be something she would struggle with, specially playing a key factor in her great regret in Fate and how she never got to be the 'perfect king' she was aiming for. Anyway, yeah, trigger warning I guess.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Ms. AtomicBomb

Arturia had already sent a troop of knights off to the port city but there had been no word. She was anxious and unsettled, her worry taking the best of her with every day that passed. She thought of having gone with them but Morgana assured that it was not yet her time and that she stay, much to her dismay.

She was seated outside in the gardens, letting the sound of the songbirds soothe her, calming her nerves. She closed her eyes as the sun shun over her face, warming the tips of her fingers and her nose, sometimes the castle could be so cold, so…lonely.

"My king." She bolted up at the sound of the voice, her heart swelling in her chest and fear settling in the pits of her very soul.

"Diarmuid," she cleared her throat, "what finds you here?"

He analyzed her, honey eyes skimming her over, taking her in. "Fresh air," he stated, almost distant.

Arturia gave him a part smile, "Of course."

"And if you would allow me to ask, what finds you here?" He knew the answer but he wanted to continue their conversation. He missed the times where they just talked, like there was nothing else to worry about but themselves.

She sighed, "I just wish to have time to my thoughts."

"Then I should probably leave you to yourself."

"No!" She didn't mean to sound so lost but her feelings poured out. "Uhm," she tried to compose herself, "what I mean to say is that you do not need to leave so suddenly. I am sure you also came out here to have some time for yourself."

The real reason he was there was because Ko-Giru had told him the King was in the Gardens and then forced him out to meet her, "Erm, yes…"

"Have a seat, please." She sat down, patting the space next to her, inviting him.

Diarmuid was afraid, much too afraid, of what people would say but he also thought she needed him at the moment and thus, he sat.

"How are you faring?" He asked, slowly.

She hesitated, looking over at him after her gaze had fallen to her lap, "I… I am rather anxious," she admitted. Oh, how she missed confiding in him as she had done years ago…

"Oh," he bit his lower lip, "what can I do to help?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," she mumbled, shrugging and proceeding to play with the ring on her finger.

It was odd, how they had grown so close and now they were distant all over again, after they had gone through so much, after they had been so…perfect together.

"How are things between Sir Tristan and you, my king?" It was a personal question—much too personal—but he wanted to know. He _needed_ to know.

"They are how they need to be; political," she answered solemnly.

"Arturia," he called her by her name.

She looked over at him, not really fazed. "Yes?"

He blamed the longing in his heart, he blamed the sun on her lips, he blamed his own _stupid_ illusion.

The wind blew harshly for a bit before it settled. The clouds covered the sun momentarily and they sat in utter silence until he did something he would later regret… he would hate himself for.

Diarmuid kissed her. Cupping her face with his right hand, tilting her head ever so slightly so that their noses were not awkwardly pressing against one another.

Arturia hummed something but she soon reciprocated the kiss, her hand landing on his shoulder, gripping it slightly. This was purely and utterly _wrong_ but she needed this.

They sank off the stone bench and unto the grass as they continued to kiss. They broke the kiss momentarily as they looked each other in the eyes. Their breathing was heavy and she could feel his hand at the back of her neck now.

She took a deep breath, "Diarmuid—"

"Shh," he hushed, "let's enjoy the moment."

She almost laughed at how ridiculous he sounded but she agreed, letting their lips meet while she lowered herself on the grass, having him twist over her slightly. She did not worry of anyone finding them, no one ever wondered the gardens in mid-day; it was too hot out.

He pulled away, seeing her laying so beautifully on the floor. Her hair fanned around her in golden waves as that day was one of the few days she had let it loose. Her cheeks were rosy pink and he could not resist in kissing her again.

Arturia pulled him closer, nearly making him loose his balance. Their kisses were soft, sweet and most gentle.

"Arturia," someone cleared their throat and the King just about threw the man off her.

"M-Morgana! What are you doing here?" She scrambled to her feet, nearly toppling over unto the grass again.

The brunette crossed her arms over her chest, "Looking for you. Mind telling me what was going on?"

Diarmuid finally made it to his feet. He bowed deeply, "Forgive me, this is all my fault."

Arturia looked over at him in disbelief that he had taken all the blame. Just as she was about to say something, her sister spoke up.

"I made my own deductions and I can see that it was a joint effort," Morgana spoke, sending her sister a glare. "The Kingdom needs you and you are fooling around with a foreign knight when you have a fiancé?"

Arturia shut her eyes, "I…"

"What if someone else had found you? How would that have made you look? Do you even _care_?" Morgana questioned, tension building in the air around them, becoming almost toxic to breathe in. "You are old enough to know, Arturia. Now, apologize to the man," she scolded.

Arturia, with a bright blush, turned to Diarmuid, "I apologize for making light of your feelings."

He shook his head, "I was the one that—"

"You have a romantic interest for me and I cannot return your feelings. I toyed with your sentiments and for that I am sorry."

He was shocked.

Arturia walked towards her sister, fixing her hair slightly but Diarmuid caught her wrist as Morgana kept on walking away.

"Wait," he bit his lower lip.

She blinked up at him.

"One last kiss and I promise to let you go, forever."

He seemed so serious her heart sunk. Rapidly, she shook her head, "I…I must go."

"Then," he sighed, "I cannot forget you."

Chills ran over her body and she felt her heart in her throat. "Maybe I am being selfish but…"

"Arturia!" Morgana realized her sister was not by her side.

Arturia rolled her eyes before giving Diarmuid one last look, "I would not want you to forget me."

"Then I never will." He kissed her knuckles and she went after her sister almost instantly.

She felt like she was acting the way a teenaged girl would, sneaking around with a boy her parents did not approve of, but she liked the feeling of him near; she never felt alone.

* * *

"Has the dragon terrorizing your lands not flown through your mind the entire day to be lip-locking with _Diarmuid_?" Morgana began the scolding as they had hidden behind closed doors.

Arturia sat on her bed, "It was a stupid and impulsive act. We were—"

"Too busy trying to—"

"Acting foolish. I cannot apologize enough. I was anxious and needed to release it somehow."

Morgana glared, "So, you kissed and were just about to—"

"No! We got caught up in the moment. Can you blame us? We have liked each other for such a long time now and I needed some type of assurance or _something_ to take my mind off everything."

"You _used_ him, Arturia. How does that make you feel?"

Morgana was right. Arturia had taken advantage of him in such a fashion, but she could not shake off the feeling of his lips on hers and she just wished that Tristan would walk away from their engagement.

"Enough of that," the sorceress took two letters she had left on the table, "we have dire news that await your attention, they both have important seals."

Arturia reached out for the envelopes, deciding to open the first one. The seal was enough to tell her that it was from France. She noted it was a telegram and she already feared the worst.

_Jeanne d'Arc has gone missing from imprisonment on April the 13_ _th_ _._

Arturia gasped, hand quickly going to cover her mouth, there was some odd sensation in the pit of her stomach, she was afraid something had occurred to her friend but she also hoped that Jeanne was safe and far away from hands that would want to hurt her.

She opened the next letter hoping that it was something that explained the young woman's sudden escape.

Instead, a putrid smell filled the air and burgundy, bordering brown ink splashed the page.

_Dear King of Camelot,_

_Your crown bleeds with the blood of your people. Soon your throne will over flow, your hands will be stained, your head will be paraded on a pike._

Arturia jumped back, nearly screaming upon realizing that it was not ink.

Morgana rushed towards the falling letter, "What is it?" She questioned before she read it, covering her mouth and calling out for the guards.

The guards rushed in seeing no threat but coming to their King's aid.

Arturia managed to stand from her bed, her heart beating wildly in her chest before she left the room in a hurry.

"Find out who wrote that!" Morgana instructed before she ran after her sister.

Morgana reached Arturia when she entered another room. Arturia was shaking furiously, and taking quick breaths that did not fill her lungs. She was hyperventilating.

"Arturia," Morgana called to her.

The woman was not herself. She was clearly falling apart at the seams; her demeanour had changed. She was distressed, sweating and tensed. She had never looked so…afraid before, it shocked Morgana.

Arturia tangled her hands into her hair and she seemed distraught.

Morgana stepped towards her, "Arturia, it is going to be alright," she coaxed and reached out for the blonde.

"Don't touch me!" Arturia yelled, startling Morgana, "Don't touch me…" she repeated much more silently this time around.

Morgana recalled how restless her sister had been after the Battle for Camelot, how she would have waking nightmares and scream at walls…but it had left for the longest time after a few herbs were fed to her; she had been fine…until now.

"Arturia, tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she hissed a reply.

Morgana projected her voice in a soft lull, "You can trust me."

Arturia backed up, her back hit the wall behind herself and she flinched. "I need…I need to be alone."

"Do you, uhm, do you want me to get Diarmuid here? Will he ease you?"

"No!" She yelled again, "He cannot… I do not want him to… I _need_ to be alone."

Morgana shook her head, "I will not leave you alone." She had seen this behaviour from other knights, the doctors described it as a sort of trauma, they relived certain events that happened in the battlefield.

Arturia burst into tears, sliding against the wall to the floor. She hugged her knees tightly and even though Morgana wanted to hold her rocking frame, she couldn't. The young woman sobbed and Morgana never wanted to see such a strong king crumble. Never had she thought her sister would fall.

"It is going to be alright, Arturia. Just trust me."

"Everyone has died at my hands," Arturia cried, "How can I be a king when—when I've killed with my own hands? I-I'm not worthy…"

"You are worthy, you are more than worthy."

Arturia shook.

Slowly, Morgana reached out towards her sister and landed a hand on her head, " _Excalibur chose you._ "


	12. Sense

_Excalibur chose you._

Lying awake on her bed, the veil overhead was the only thing she focused her eyes on. Arturia couldn't fall asleep; the thought of war kept her awake and restless. She could feel the weight of a sword in her hands and the nipping of the freezing cold snow on her skin. It was summer, but she always remembered the time she had been left for dead in the middle of winter…the blood on her hands when Lancelot fell, the pressure on her neck…she felt it all.

"What can a sword decide?" She hissed to the darkness of the night. Scared, she snuggled into her blankets, hiding away from what might lay in the shadows. She had never become accustom to the darkness after her journey.

_A sword_ , what power did a sword have to place her on a throne? A sword was nothing but a ridiculous object, one that killed people, one that only caused pain and destruction. How could a sword be just?

The light of the sun leaked through the stained glass, lighting her room different colours. She pulled the covers from her face at the sound of a few birds and lay still for a longer while. She did not sleep, not even for a few minutes; she couldn't so much as rest her eyes, or the visions would return.

Arturia sat up, climbing out of the bed before any of the ladies-in-waiting would enter the room. Her white night dress seemed unfitting for her, but she did not complain.

_Excalibur chose you_ , the words rung in her ears, causing her so much annoyance and stress. She wanted to scream, shut the words up, but she knew she would seem crazy. Excalibur was wrong; she was not a King.

The knock on the door and the announcing of her Ladies-in-waiting allowed her to calm down for a bit. They helped her into the dress for the day, decorating her face with pigments and powder and arranging jewels to adorn her. She stood up, looking at herself in the mirror after Morgana placed a crown on her head _. A king_ , she was nothing near regal.

Arturia did not speak a word, her exhaustion evident on her face and her mood. She kept her eyes beyond everyone, beyond the very room she was in. Her green eyes seemed focused on something but nothing in particular. In fact, she seemed to be in another world, a world far away from the walls of Camelot.

"My king," Morgana spoke, trying to pull Arturia out of her trance. "May I please have a word?"

Arturia finally looked over to her sister, eyes still lifeless. "Of course, dear sister."

"Thank you, your majesty."

All the other ladies left the room, allowing privacy to the two sisters. The wooden doors were closed shut and Morgana insisted that Arturia sit down. "What would you like to say, sister?"

"Arturia," Morgana sighed, frowning and watching her sister intently. "What troubles you so?"

Arturia looked away. "Nothing troubles me."

"Is the letter on your mind?"

"…Please, I would rather not speak of that. Let me go to the Throne, I am certain I am in demand."

"Artie," Morgana landed a hand on her sister's knee, "your memories, the things you see…They do not make you any less than you are. You are a strong woman, one of the strongest I have ever encountered. Father and Igraine would be proud of you."

"Those memories are part of who I am and as a King I should be in control, but they are in control of me." Arturia stood from her seat, lifting her dress and walking towards the door. "This kingdom is ruled by my fears not my wisdom or experiences; Excalibur did not choose right." She looked back over her shoulder at her sister, her decorated cheeks rosy pink and a tint of red on her lips. Diamond earrings hanging from her ears elegantly, a necklace adorning her. Her crown glistening with the many colours of the stained glass.

Morgana's eyes watered, seeing her sister so beautiful and glorious but sad at the same time. "You will be the perfect king, I will never doubt that." She blinked the blurriness away. "Now," she breathed, standing up straight, "the knights should be waiting for you."

Arturia left the room, head held high and grace returning, as if she had never once doubted her regal authority. She walked on towards the Throne, where she knew the remaining Knights of the Round would be waiting for her. Two knights opened the doors of the Throne room for her and all the chatting ceased, eyes immediately on her small frame. She strode in silence, her hands clasped together in front of herself and she never looked away from the Throne.

She stepped up the short stairs. Turning around, her dress swirled around her, and she sat down on the Throne, finally letting her eyes land on the Knights. "Good morning," she greeted.

"Good morning, your majesty," they answered in unison.

"We assume you all know why We have asked you to gather so early in the morning." She blinked, "If not, there was a threat to the Crown of Camelot yesterday. We received a letter threatening our authority and although it seemed alarming, We have deduced it is of no relevance or importance." Empty threats, she assured herself.

She stood. "What We wish for you, dear knights, is to be on high alert over the Saxons. We can not let them progress in our lands. Remember, please, to be strong and protect your duchies. If you are in need of help, send word immediately and do not hesitate to help each other. Camelot is all of ours and we must protect her."

After the knights had left the room, Tristan walked towards her, bowing before he spoke. "My King," He looked down, away from her eyes, "how are you feeling?" He asked, noting the dark circles under her eyes.

She seemed dazed, but she answered. "I am doing well, why would you ask?"

"No reason," he smiled, "No reason at all."

Arturia stood from her seat, "I will retire to my chambers, I need some time for myself."

He nodded, giving her a supportive smile. "I will make sure that you are left undisturbed."

She looked at him before she left the room, guilt settling in her heart. She cared about him, but she could never think of him more than her family. A marriage, although great for her country, was not something she would be very happy with.

The thought of being married for the rest of her life with someone she did not love frightened her, she thought she would only make Tristan a miserable and annoyed man. She could not properly handle the feelings of a man, to think she could handle those of a man she did not find remotely romantically inclined towards.

She walked through the halls of the castle, hoping to get to her room without any interruption. Alas, she was a king and she was bound to find someone on the way somewhere. She was surprised, to say the least, when she found herself before Diarmuid.

"Good morning, my king," he greeted, bowing before her.

She nodded, blushing at the fact that she remembered their kisses of the previous evening. She shook her head, ridding herself of the image and trying to focus on her melancholy instead. "Good morning."

"My king, are you feeling well? You seem under the weather." He noticed her tired eyes, the way she stood, everything. Although she looked lovely, he could see through that. He knew her very well, he knew that much.

Arturia nodded. "Well, of course I am."

He stepped towards her, looking her in the eyes. "You do not seem well." He was always so bold when it came to when he was concerned about her, she felt glad that had not changed.

"I am nothing more than tired," she replied.

"Did you not get to sleep well? Would you like me to accompany you to the door of your chambers?" He asked, offering his hand out for her to take it.

She stared at his hand, her heart telling her to jump at the idea but her mind reminding her it was better not to jump to any invitation. She took it though, his cool hand eased her mind and her anxiety. "Why, thank you, Diarmuid." She wrapped her arm around his and he led her off to her bed chambers.

They did not speak much, both seemed to find each other's company sufficient. They were content with the silent walk. They reached the room much too quickly, to their dismay.

Arturia pulled away from him, facing him. "Thank you. I hope to see you at lunch."

He smiled at her. "I hope you are able to rest, even if just for a short while."

"Thank you." She gave him a curt nod and he bowed before her. She wanted him to stay with her for a longer while, he always seemed to make her feel calm, from the moment she had started travelling with him. He always assured her that she would be fine and helped her through her tough times.

* * *

Violet eyes flickered open ever so slowly. Her dry and chapped lips were parted as she took deep breaths. She could blurrily see the dust dance in the sunlight. A blanket over her, ever so warm. It seemed odd, it did not feel like the cell at all. The bed was warm and fluffy, a light pillow under her head and the ceiling looked to be of soft wood and not stone.

Jeanne groaned, turning her head but the sharp pain in her neck stopped her from moving any more than a slight tilt. She tried to keep her eyes open, but they fluttered closed again.

The next time she awoke, she noticed it was brighter outside and the air seemed fresher, so she only assumed that it was morning. She did not want to sit up, but she knew that it was time for her to stand; it was very tiring to also just be laying down all day.

She tried to sit up, but she couldn't, instead, she cried out. Her right arm was in horrible pain and she could not dare move it. It felt as if she had a horrible fracture or tear—she was in unimaginable pain. She huffed as she slowly fell back onto the bed.

"You've finally awoken. I would advise you not to move too much, miss." The deep voice of a man caught her attention.

She was startled but couldn't move a single muscle over exhaustion and pain.

"I will not hurt you." He finally came into view. He was a tall man, skin the colour of sweet brown sugar and long white messy hair. His eyes were green and very grave. "How are you feeling? Are you alright?"

She barely moved. "Y-yes, where…where am I?" She croaked.

"Somewhere safe," he replied.

Jeanne was satisfied enough with the answer; the bed was warm, and she did not feel as if she were in danger. "Who are you?"

"No one of importance. I will be taking you to a safer place, once you have recovered, that is."

She took a deep breath. "How did you get me out of the cell?" Her voice was horse and strained, she could barely speak properly.

"You do not remember?" He asked, brows knitting.

"What do you mean?" She coughed, feeling pain radiating through her body.

The man was silent for a short while. He shuffled about the room and placed another blanket over her body, in order that she might feel a bit warmer. "There was a raid from the Saxons on Rouen. In the mess of things, you jumped from the window and hit the floor. It is a surprise you lived, honestly."

"A raid?" She couldn't seem to remember, but his explanation made sense of her horrid pain. A fall of seventy-feet could kill someone…but she wasn't dead, right?


	13. Truth

Jeanne could feel and hear the pulsing in her head, it hurt just to stand up straight and she couldn't bring herself to even stand for a long time, as her muscles also hurt with every small movement that she made. Jeanne stared at the plate of food before her. It looked delicious, but she couldn't bring herself to have any appetite for it. The corners of her lips curled down and she looked away from the plate. Clouding her sight with her lashes, she looked over at the man who was crouching by the fireplace. He stirred some stew and continued to focus on something else.

A week had passed since she awoke, and she had slowly been recovering; the only thing was that she had lost he appetite greatly. She barely had touched the food he gave her and most of her day was spent indoors since he said that people were looking for her.

"You should eat something," he spoke, looking over at her.

Pushing the plate from herself, she murmured, "I don't feel hungry."

He stood, unruly white hair springing all over. "You need to eat at least something. If you don't, you'll get worse."

"You're Germanic," she stated, sunken eyes looking up at him, "aren't you?"

He sighed and nodded. "Yes, but that shouldn't stop you from eating. You do realize that you're injured and at this rate your days are numbered."

"I need to go to a church."

He stared at her. "I already told you that it can't be helped. You _cannot_ leave the cabin at any cost."

"And surely you do not understand me either. I must go. I _need_ to go."

He straightened up, looking over at the door. "Well, I can't stop you."

Jeanne blinked, also looking at the door. "Where am I?" She asked, taking a deep breath.

"We're in Bretagne, in a coastal city."

She stood from the table, trying not to cause herself much pain. "Why?"

"It should be easier to get to Camelot from here; there are always some trade routes that leave every now and again."

Jeanne walked to the door, opening it. The fresh breeze of the ocean rounded her, and she could feel herself alleviate. She looked out at the ocean that was just out of her reach, as when one reaches for a jar on the top shelf but not even with the most intense stretching can you reach it. She could hear people's laughter. "Where is the church?"

He sighed, "Miss, I understand that you feel you must go, but I don't think it to be a bright idea. There are men looking for you. You must get to safety as soon as you're healthy enough."

"We shall leave today," she looked back at him over her shoulder, "if you intend to escort me."

"That is my job. Though, I was told to take you healthy."

"You say there are people looking for me, and I wish to at least be in a church for a minute or two; if I do go, we must leave Francia." She looked back out to the beach, her heart feeling heavy in her chest and her sight blurring over as she thought of leaving forever. "We should be on the boat by nightfall."

"Are you sure that's what you wish, miss?"

It wasn't. It wasn't what she wanted at all.

"How did you find me?" She asked, not once taking her eyes off the ocean. In the week they had spent together she had not asked any questions and so today she wanted to know. Where had her life gone wrong? She had been a successful military leader, she had been a devout servant of God and she had never done a single thing that would ever leave her in such a state so why was she suffering. "And who are you?"

"I was sent…I was sent to free you from the tower."

"Who sent you?" She looked back at him, blinking away the tears and calming herself by taking subtle deep breaths.

He looked away from her. " _That_ , I cannot disclose."

"You wish me to follow you blindly when I don't know who you are and what you intend to do with me?"

"Camelot is your destination; that is where you will be the safest. My name is Siegfried, I have been appointed to escort you, that is all I'm allowed to tell you and it shall be all I say."

Jeanne stepped out the door, grabbing a cloak off the hook. "I will return before night fall."

"It would be safer if I take you there and we leave soon thereafter."

She nodded. "If you feel that would be best, it shall be what we do." And unto the beach the headed, walking through the sand and off to the church, wherever it was, soon to head back into the dangerous waters of the isles at war with the Saxons.

* * *

"Hello." The sudden voice startled the blonde that sat at the balcony, watching over the lands.

She brought a hand to her chest and took a deep breath as her eyes landed on Tristan after calming herself from her loud yelp. "You frightened me half to death, sir Tristan."

He cracked a smile, "Forgive me, lady Iseult. I never meant to cause you any unease."

Patting the seat next to her, she returned the smile. "Oh, it's no problem. I just nearly had a heart attack, that's all."

Tristan laughed, taking the seat next to her. "I hope I'm not intruding on you. You seemed to be busy."

"Oh please, sir Tristan, I very much enjoy company so there's no need for you to stress. Plus, it seems like the perfect time to get to know each other."

"Yes, that's very true." He glanced out the patio, taking in the wonderous sight and then he turned back towards her. "What do you seem so pensive about?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "I don't want to trouble you over trivial matters, she said, nibbling on her lip and pushing a lock of hair away from her face. "How are you and Arturia doing?" She asked, reaching for the book she had left aside an hour ago before she had gotten caught up in her thoughts.

It was Tristan's turn to sigh. "I…I'm not sure, really. We were doing well but with the return of Diarmuid at court, I've caught her being more pensive and I've seen her looking at him with that face of longing and guilt she usually wears."

"That seems a little depressing…" Iseult mumbled, sliding her hands over the spine of the book. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"What advice would you give a poor man like me?"

She brought a hand to her mouth, holding back her giggle. "You're asking _me_ for advice? A wrong move, I must warn you."

He laughed, shrugging. "I cannot exactly ask Diarmuid for his help, now can I?"

"I guess you have but no choice." She shook her head, opening her book.

"Will that romance novel really help me?" Tristan leaned over, curiously peeking over her shoulder to see what was written inside.

She lifted her shoulder, shielding the book from his sight. "Sir Tristan, you must trust me, I am a trained professional."

"In the art of reading romance novels?" He raised an eyebrow, lips pouting to one side.

Iseult nodded. " _Why yes_. If you must know, I have spent many years of my life reading these, I only know the best romance rituals in all of the continent and the isles."

He settled back on the seat and watched her carefully. "Well, I hope this advice works."

"You set yourself up for failure when you asked me. But, as a kind lady my mother taught me to be, I will help you to the best of my abilities. Now, let's begin." She scanned through a few pages, shifting on the bench in order to find a comfortable position.

Tristan watched as her blue eyes flew through the book and she occasionally stopped to read a bit in depth.

"Aha!" She lifted her head from the book and looked at him. "Have you gotten her flowers? Complimented her on her appearance? Maybe even brushed her hair aside? You must be very attentive, women love that. Personally, I think the little details matter the most."

"By this logic, if he has a leaf in her hair I should take it off, yes?"

Iseult nodded. "Yes, that would be something beautiful! It would make my heart skip a beat and I'm sure Arturia's would too."

He rubbed the back of his neck, drifting his gaze out towards the lands again. There was something about the rolling hills that calmed him down and soothed his worries. "But will that work if she's in love with someone else?"

Iseult's smile fell from her lips and she took a deep breath.

"How am I to compete with a man she's head over heels for?"

"You can't," Iseult deadpanned, setting the book down next to her.

Immediately he looked over at her. "You're supposed to give me advice, lady Iseult," he chuckled unironically.

"You cannot compete to win her heart if it's already won and in the possession of another. That being said," she heaved, "Arturia also has Diarmuid's heart in her hands."

"What am I supposed to do then?"

"Nothing. You wait patiently for her. She'll always love him, but she'll learn to love you too."

Tristan blinked, clearing his throat. "I wouldn't want to put myself or her through that. I don't want to force her to love me."

Iseult stood, fixing her dress. "That is the burden we nobles must carry. We are forced to love those we marry even if our hearts beat for another."

"You're engaged, aren't you, lady Iseult?" He could tell by the look in her eyes that it was what she had been so fixed on earlier.

She gave a sorrowful smile and nodded. "Yes, I am."

"And do you love another?"

"I…Not yet, maybe I will one day. And you? Do you really love Arturia?"

"I have to."

"So, you don't."

He sighed, standing from the bench. "I must."

The look on his face, the solemn smile and the pure loneliness in his eyes replicated that of Iseult's and she brought a hand to her chest, speaking before she could even think properly. "And if we fall in love with each other?"

Tristan coughed. "What?"

"Wouldn't that be better?" She laughed, looking away from his hazel eyes. "Excuse me," she mumbled before she left, walking down the hallway and disappearing behind a corner.

Ko-Giru and Mordred lingered in the shadows, behind a huge pillar as they stood in silence. Well, Ko-Giru had his hand over the younger boy's mouth so that he would not make a sound as he stood in shock, to be exact. He had never imagined something like this, especially to do with Arturia's fiancé.


End file.
